


Into the Shadows

by ILiveinOtterSpace



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Slow Burn, pirate!Abigail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILiveinOtterSpace/pseuds/ILiveinOtterSpace
Summary: Abigail regained consciousness with a start. Her mind suddenly awake with a sharp clarity that she hadn’t experienced in weeks. She was lying on the ground, ground that wasn’t moving.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work in Progress. New to writing fan fiction and desperately looking for a beta reader. :)
> 
> Some lines taken directly from the show. No copyright infringement intended!

Abigail regained consciousness with a start. Her mind suddenly awake with a sharp clarity that she hadn’t experienced in weeks. She was lying on the ground, ground that wasn’t moving. Evidently, she had been moved off the ship. The room she was in, was shrouded in half-darkness. The walls damp with moisture. And the stench around her was almost unbearable though she wasn’t sure if that were the walls or herself. She hadn’t bathed or washed in weeks or was it months? She had been drugged for a so long.

 

Her eyes landed on the food that had been left for her. She was ravenous. The crew that had captured her hadn’t provided her with much food though she dimly recalled them forcing water down her throat twice or so a day. She scrambled over to the plate on the floor and quickly recoiled from it. The bread was seething with maggots. She couldn’t possibly eat it but in the end, her hunger won out. The grabbed the bread and with deft motions removed the maggots. Her stomach dry heaved a couple of times as she moved the bread towards her mouth. What if there still were maggots inside? Abigail pushed the thought out of her head and began eating the bread. She quickly finished the piece but couldn’t make herself eat the other piece. The bread had not helped her stomach settle down. Instead of the bread, she grabbed the cup of water that had been left for her as well and drained it immediately. It wasn’t much but it had to do for now.

 

Abigail froze in place when a voice outside of the cell called out to her, “Oy! You awake in there?” It wasn’t a voice she recognized but clearly, she still hadn’t been returned to polite company. She briefly wondered how she ended up her. She could dimly recall fighting noises. And afterwards a distant memory of strong arms carrying her. The voice outside called again, “Hey, you hear me?” Abigail swallowed a few times, trying to gather the courage to answer. “Yes,” she answered, her voice weak and quiet from disuse. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Yes, I’m awake.” No reply followed. Instead, she could hear footfalls growing quieter and quieter. Apparently, somebody had been waiting for her to wake up.

 

Slowly Abigail tried standing up but her legs would not support her. Crawling would have to suffice for now, she decided. And so, she crawled over to the spot illuminated by the light that was streaming in through the high window. She leaned against the door and soaked up the sun’s warmth. She concluded that she must be somewhere in the south. Back home in England, the snowdrops would be starting to show themselves now but it would still be bitterly cold. Somewhere near the sea as well, going by the seagulls’ racket outside.

 

Sitting in the light, seemed to help. She could feel her strength slowly returning. She slowly opened her eyes. The light was blinding and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. She was surprised to see that the bruises on her arms were all but gone. She had struggled when she was captured and the men had been anything but gentle. She was filthy, too. Her body and dress caked in dirt and blood. Some of it hers. Her menses had come and gone since she had been captured, but most of the blood belonged to her late governess. The pirates had unceremoniously cut her throat when they had been discovered in their hiding place.

 

Abigail was unable to resist the sadness the settled in her. Never in her life had she imagined that something like this would happen to her. Of course, she had heard stories about pirates and the other dangers of the sea, but those were things that happened to other people. Her path in life had been set. She was to join her father after finishing her schooling in London. In Charles Town she would have been introduced to society this season and soon enough a suitable husband would emerge. Instead, she had been captured by pirates. Held by them for goodness knows how long. Her future was uncertain at best. She was used to being alone, without her family, but her days had structure and purpose.

 

She drew her knees closer to her body. Her arms wrapping around them and her head coming to rest on top of them. She was trying to shield herself from the harsh reality she had awoken to. The sun’s warmth and light were helping a bit, shaking the coldness from her limbs that had settled when they had started drugging her. Her body had constantly been cold, her mind trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Lulled by the sun, she could feel her body relax slightly. Before she knew it, her body had given into sleep again. It wasn’t deep sleep but the first sleep without drugs. Her body craving natural sleep.

 

Soon enough she was startled awake again though. She could hear heavy footfalls approaching. Her entire body tensed up, wishing she could run away and hide somewhere but there was nowhere to go. Suddenly, she heard a key being inserted into the door lock and she scrambled as far away as possible. She ended up on the opposite end of the room, moulding herself against the wall, clutching her dress. She was desperately hoping that is wasn’t HIM, but at the same time she knew whoever walked through that door wouldn’t be a shining angel come to rescue her either.

 

Finally, the door slowly opened, revealing the figure standing behind it. She quickly glanced at him through the curtain of her hair. She couldn’t help but rejoice at the fact that it wasn’t HIM but at the same time, the man that had entered her cell was imposing. He was towering over her. Even from across the room. His skin tanned by the sun, his hair long, unruly, adorned with braids, jewellery and beads. His shirt was had a deep opening at the neck, revealing what lay below. With one look at him she was sure, she had just met another pirate. What he did next confused her though. He placed a stool in the middle of the room and set an inkpot on it. She could see paper and a quill tucked into his belt.

 

He stepped further into the cell, studied her for a few moments and then began to talk, “My name is Charles Vane and you are now my guest. As such, no harm will come to you as long as you do exactly as I say. You understand?” As soon as she heard the name all hope for a rescue or escape or anything really was dashed to bits. Charles Vane! She had heard people speak that name in fear for years. He was a notorious pirate and she was his prisoner! But he had promised her no harm, and oh he had asked her a question. Yes, yes of course she understood but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know why but she said the first thing that came to her mind, “The other one, he said no talking.” She briefly glanced at him. He was still staring at her, making her feel vulnerable. She found herself unable to hold his gaze.

 

Though instead of the violence she had come to expect at the hand of pirates, he answered her. “Captain Low?”, he asked and stepped away from the light into the darkness. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore.” He was trying to reassure her, but why? What was he doing? And how, how could he be sure? Low had been hunting her in her dreams ever since her capture. In this moment it didn’t matter that the person she was talking to, was a pirate captain or maybe that was exactly the reason why, but she needed to know, “How can you be sure?”

 

His answer came casually from his lips, “Cut his head off!” It made her blood sing and recoil at the same time. Low was dead! He could never again hurt her and the man in front of her was responsible! The pleasure that she felt at the violent end to his life should have shocked her but she only felt the satisfaction that he had gotten what he deserved. She looked up at the Captain. Her brown eyes locking with his blue eyes. She held his gaze for a few moments before speaking one single word, “Good!”

 

As soon as she had spoken, his eyes narrowed, confusion briefly evident on his face. Clearly her reaction had surprised him. After a few seconds, he continued speaking, “Now your father is Lord Peter Ashe, Governor of the Carolina colony, is that right?” Abigail nodded in affirmation. The captain was now pacing slowly up and down in front of her. “What is the total value of his estate?” Of course, Abigail realized, that’s why she was here. She was to be exchanged for money and he was trying to ascertain for how much. She slightly shook her head and gave him an honest answer, “I don’t know.” It’s not like her father talked to her about such matters. She was a woman after all and in his eyes, she need not concern herself with such matters. A woman’s job was to have children. But the captain kept on pressing. She could see that he was getting slightly annoyed that she couldn’t provide any answers. “How many rooms in his house? How many slaves?” She looked up at him now, trying to convey the truth in her answers, “Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in years. I’ve been at school in London.” She could see his expression change slightly when she was speaking. He tilted his head as if urging her to go on, as if he wanted to know more about her but surely, she was imagining that. His expression grew harder, “Are you close with him?” But Abigail was confused. Why was he asking her these things? She was still looking directly into his eyes, searching for the answer he wanted her to give him so the only thing she could do was to ask him to clarify things. Short and to the point, she asked, “What?”

 

He was growing more agitated again, it seemed. He resumed his pacing, and the interrogation, “I’m asking if there is any reason I should expect he may not be willing to ensure no harm comes to you.” Abigail realized what he meant as soon as he finished explaining. Her eyes began to water slightly and she had to blink to force the tears to go away. Dejectedly she focused on the wall to the right of him and spoke, “You’re asking if he loves me.” Looking back up at him, while the last of the sentence left her mouth, she saw something she didn’t expect on his face: curiosity. But being prodded about the relationship with her father, was bringing up feelings she had long buried and ignored. She looked down, swallowed hard and steeled herself for the answer she had to give, “He will pay you what you ask.”

 

He was still looking at her, with that questioning look. She could feel his eyes boring holes in her. He had withdrawn the piece of paper and quill from his belt, and focused on it for a brief moment. Then he looked back at her and asked her, “Can you write?” Abigail was slightly insulted by his question and her answer, “Of course!” came out more annoyed than she wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he dictated her what to write in her letter. She didn’t bat an eye when he presented her with the reality that he would kill her if her father didn’t pay up. It was to be expected. She could only hope that her father would comply with his demands. When he finished speaking he held out the quill and paper to her, forcing her to move and grab it from him. But she would make it through this, she told herself, so she crawled forward and snatched it out of his hand.

 

He unceremoniously turned around and exited her cell. He locked the door but Abigail was surprised to realize that he stood outside her door for several moments before he left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail decided that it was probably best to get started on the letter right away. Captain Vane didn’t seem as if he were a patient perso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work in Progress. New to writing fan fiction and desperately looking for a beta reader. :)
> 
> I have another story in the works as well. Currently at 20k+ words but it needs major work. xD

Abigail decided that it was probably best to get started on the letter right away. Captain Vane didn’t seem as if he were a patient person. She slowly stood up. She still felt a bit unsteady but it seemed that more of her strength had returned. Shakily, she made her way over to the stool he had brought. She grabbed the inkpot off the stool and moved toward the door again, dragging the stool behind her. She settled down against the door and pulled the stool over her legs. It was a bit high but it would do as a writing desk.

 

 

She smoothed out the paper on the surface of the stool, weighing down a corner with the inkpot and the other with her hand. She unscrewed the pot and dipped in the quill, but the inspiration to write didn’t come. How do you begin a letter that informs a parent of your abduction? Abigail realized her thoughts were running around in circles. Frustrated she let go of the quill and rubbed her face with both hands. This wouldn’t do. She needed to write this letter. Her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and focused on calming down. The letter need not be eloquent, she figured, as long as it conveyed all the information. She picked the quill back up. The feeling of it in her hand such a familiar one. Resolutely, she put the quill down on the paper and began to write a letter to her father like she had done so many times before.

 

 

_My Dearest Father,_

_I am writing to you today under dire circumstances. The Good Fortune was intercepted on our way to the Americas and I was taken by Pirates._

_Do not worry for I am unharmed, but I am in the custody of the Pirate Captain Charles Vane. He is demanding_ _£_ _250.000 pounds as a ransom for my safe return to be collected when we make our way to Charles Town._

_He said, he would take my life if his demands are unmet or he can sense a trap._

_I implore you father: Please help me!_

_Your ever-loving daughter,_

_Abigail_

 

 

She was dissatisfied with her writing. It lacked  her usual grace with words that people had often commented on, but it would have to do. Hopefully her father would recognize her handwriting and the standard greetings she used in all her letters. She could only hope because the other alternative was one she didn’t want to have to think about.

 

 

She had fretted so long about what to write that by now it was getting dark in her cell. It was still light outside but the sun wasn’t shining in her window anymore. She moved back over to the meagre mattress she had been provided with. There were no pillows nor blankets but at least she didn’t have to sleep on the cold, stone floor.

 

 

She was startled awake when the cell door crashed into the wall next to her. He had returned and he seemed angry. The torch in his hand lit up his face. His eyes were narrowed and he was breathing heavily. She shielded her eyes from the light and slowly came into a sitting position. Once again, he was pacing up and down in her cell. Much faster now though. He fixated her with his gaze, “Do you have it?” Abigail nodded and pointed over to the stool he had used as a desk. He stalked over to the stool and quickly grabbed the letter. He held it up to the light, studying her words. After he finished reading the letter, he nodded once and stalked out of her cell without another word.

 

 

Abigail tried to fall back asleep after he had disturbed her but sleep eluded her. Frustrated with the situation she found herself in, she got up and paced the length of her cell. Unlike earlier in the day, her feelings now were more of anger rather than sadness or frustration. It was as if the darkness of the night had opened a door to equally dark parts of her mind. The moment Captain Vane had informed her of Low’s death kept playing over and over in her head. “Cut off his head!” on endless repeat. Despite her current situation a small smile grew on her lips. At least, he had gotten what he deserved. A small part of her wished she could have been there to see it. She knew, from her father’s letters, that Vane was vicious and an accomplished fighter. She could almost picture it in her head.

 

 

Abigail stopped her pacing and shook her head. What was she thinking? She rubbed her face with both of her hands, trying to chase away the thoughts that had occupied her mind. She shouldn’t be thinking these things. She turned her face up to the high window. Pale moonlight was filtering in. Somewhat calmed she knelt on the floor. Praying had offered her solace in the past when she had missed both her mother and father, when she was angry at them both for leaving her all alone. She hoped it would grant her some respite now. She folded her hands, bowed her head but peace wouldn’t come. She’d get started on a prayer and then inevitably her thoughts would drift.

 

 

Frustrated, she got back up and resumed her frantic pacing.  Her cell measured exactly 10 steps across, she learnt. One, two, three: there was the large crack in the stone on the wall. Four, five, six: there was the rest of the maggoty bread. Seven, eight, nine: don’t forget to turn around on the tenth step or you’ll hit the door. She knew she was close to hysterical but then middle of the night was probably the most appropriate time of day to give into madness. At least a little bit. Oh, how she wished she could’ve been the one to deal with Low!

 

Sleep didn’t come to her until morning arrived. The little bit of sky she could see through her window, slowly turning from a dark black, to dark blue and finally to the bright blue of the Caribbean’s sky. Tired and exhausted she laid down on the little mattress and finally fell into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. A wide smile gracing her face. She was on the Good Fortune. Everything would be alright

Abigail raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. A wide smile gracing her face. She was on the _Good Fortune._ Everything would be alright. It had all been a bad dream. She was standing at the bow of the ship. She could feel the sun beating down on her, almost burning the skin on her face. She could taste the salt of the water in the air. The wind was playfully tearing at her dress and her unbound hair. It would be a mess later but she didn’t care. The ship around her was creaking. The sails flapping above her while the bow was cutting through the water below. Soon she would be reunited with her father, after so many years spent apart. Peace and calm spread through her while she pictured her new life in Charles Town.

 

 

Her peace was disturbed when a figure came to stand next to her, blocking the sun. She turned towards the newcomer and saw Captain Vane towering over her. She had to tilt her neck to be able to look at his face. She could see mirth in his eyes. His mouth drawn into a smirk. He stood there for a few seconds or for an eternity, Abigail couldn’t really tell, before he spoke those words again, “Cut his head off!” And suddenly he was dragging her under water. She was powerless. Her limbs paralyzed. The sun light slowly faded away the deeper she sank, a smile on her lips.

 

 

Abigail was torn from her sleep by a deafening explosion. Cannon fire, she realized. Targeting the structure she was in! She scrambled into the middle of the room, away from the walls that might crumble and bury her beneath them. Before the next volley hit, she could hear the lock of her cell being opened. He looked furious, even more so than last night. “Get up! Follow me!” were the only words he spoke. Abigail got up as fast as she could and stepped out of her cell. The corridor was even darker than her cell. He set of at a quick pace, checking often if she was keeping up with him. She almost had to run to keep up. Breathlessly and some might say carelessly, she asked, “What is happening?” He glanced at her before leading her down the next corridor. “You, Miss Ashe, are a very coveted prize.” He didn’t speak anymore. After what felt like forever they reached their destination down in the cellar of the structure. Several men had arrived before them and were looking expectantly at the Captain. He pointed to a corner and spoke only one word to her (“Sit.”) before conferring with his men.

 

 

The cannon fire lasted a good hour, she estimated but it very well could’ve been only ten minutes or half a day. She had lost all sense of time in her captivity. She could hear walls crumbling above her. The wooden beams breaking under the onslaught that was raining down on them. Abigail wanted nothing more to press her hands over her ears. She would do anything to drown out the noises but she was too afraid to move. Instead her hands gripped her dress tightly until her knuckles were white and her joints ached. Who could want her so much that they dared to attack Captain Vane? And for what nefarious purpose? Oh, how she wished her father had never made her leave England. When she had first learnt of her journey to the new world, she had been ecstatic but now she would give anything to be back in her drawing room enjoying a cup of tea.

 

 

At long last, silence finally settled. Only to be broken by one of Captain Vane’s men who rapidly approached him. Nobody else moved or spoke. Even though they were standing several feet away Abigail could overhear their conversation with ease. Clearly, they were in a fort with most of its walls just having been razed to the ground. What she heard next though, struck fear in her heart once more. Captain Vane was expecting the fort to be stormed. Once again, she would be taken into custody of somebody else. Fought over like a prize, subjected to someone’s will with no regard for her wishes.

 

 

She could feel his eyes on her. Stoically she stared at her knees. She wouldn’t show weakness. She couldn’t let fear rule her. No, she had decided that she would survive this. Whatever life had in store for her, she would get through this. She might appear meek and quiet, but she could be strong. After what felt like eons, she finally heard him speak. “Larson, take her back to the cell. Make sure she remains safe while I’m gone. No one is to touch her. Understood?”

 

 

Even though she should’ve expected it, the sailor taking her arm startled her. Larson helped her stand and then began leading her back to her cell. The destruction the cannons had laid on them was obvious. Broken walls, shattered beams, toppled chairs and tables obstructing their path back to the cell. The pirate that Captain Vane had sent with her, Larson, seemed oddly gentle in his manner. Helping her traverse the more damaged and thus dangerous sections of the fort. Though his only response to her muttered “Thank you” was a gruff grunt.

 

 

Her cell seemed undamaged yet quite a bit dustier than it had been last night. Resigned to her fate for now, she sank down onto the mattress. She closed her eyes to await the inevitable. He had said that they, whoever they were, would probably storm the fort within two hours. There was no doubt in her mind, that is must be yet another pirate crew looking to ransom her. However, the day dragged on and nobody came to disturb her. The hour grew later and later. Night finally fell and still there was no fighting, no noise at the door. Maybe he had found a way to keep the fort safe, keep her safe for now.

 

 

As she succumbed to sleep, her thoughts involuntarily turned to the enigmatic pirate captain. Replaying that moment over and over. There had been mirth in his voice, but his eyes had conveyed a sense of victory and dominance. Inexplicably she found herself drawn to it, to his imposing figure, to the power he projected. She knew she shouldn’t think of such things, should atone for the sins she was committing even if just in thought, but she was too exhausted.  Before sleep finally claimed her, she briefly pondered that with his help she could maybe just maybe become strong enough herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Abigail was harshly woken by somebody storming into her cell. Contrary to her expectations it wasn’t him, but instead it was a blonde woman. Abigail could see agitation on the woman’s face. Her eyes wide in excitement, and maybe even fear. The torch she had brought was bathing the cell in a bright light, making it hard for Abigail to make out much at present. Abigail slowly came into a sitting position as the woman crouched down before her. “Abigail, “she addressed her, one hand reaching out towards her. “My name is Eleanor. You are no longer a hostage, and I’m gonna get you out of here.”

 

 

Abigail’s lower lip began to tremble. Could it really be true? Could her ordeal finally be over? But who was this Eleanor? How did she gain access to her cell? How did she get past the Captain? Her mind was in turmoil, and she half thought this all a dream. But the woman remained in her cell, even though Abigail pinched herself in the thigh. Not a dream then, she thought, relief flooding through her.

 

 

Eleanor pulled out a letter and handed it to her. “Read this. It will explain.” Abigail hesitantly took the letter out of her hand. The seal on it was an unfamiliar one. Gently she broke it and started reading. Her breath caught in her throat. The letter was from Lady Hamilton. She distantly remembered her from her childhood. Why was she here? She looked at Eleanor crouching in front of her. Their eyes level but Eleanor wouldn’t hold her gaze for long. Her eyes flittered about from here to there. Doubt began growing in Abigail. So quiet still that she didn’t recognize it for what it was, but it sharpened her mind and heightened her senses.

 

 

She remembered Lady Hamilton. She remembered sitting in her drawing room watching Lady Hamilton and her mother in conversation. She remembered the garden parties during the summer. She remembered the happiness she had felt back then, before her entire world had fallen apart. She had been a little child. Her family still a safe haven of love and comfort. She looked back up from the letter. “And you’re saying she’s here? Lady Hamilton is on this island?” Eleanor voiced the affirmative, but Abigail’s suspicion kept on rearing its ugly head. This was too good to be true. Too easy of an escape. Captain Vane had made a promise to her and so far, had kept it. Why should she run when her freedom was almost here? “But I don’t understand. Captain Vane gave me his word, I’d be unharmed here.”

 

 

Eleanor tried to assure her that she would be safe with them, to trust them and Abigail was wanting to believe her. To entrust herself to another one once again and escape but then she mentioned him! Captain Flint! An even more notorious pirate, THE most notorious pirate. He had featured prominently in her father’s letters almost as if he were his personal nemesis, and the woman in front of her was in league with him. Abigail shook her head. All hopes of an escape, of an end to this nightmare buried in one instant. “No, no, no.” Frantically she scrambled away from Eleanor, back into the darkest corner of the cell as if trying to become one with the shadows.

 

 

Eleanor came after her but Abigail wouldn’t have it. “Stop. Don’t come any closer or I’ll scream.” That seemed to stop Eleanor dead in her tracks. She was apparently quite scared of what Captain Vane would do if he were to find her here. Abigail looked up at the woman, trying to judge her intentions but Eleanor was still avoiding her gaze. Abigail swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I remember Lady Hamilton’s face, but I know Captain Flint’s name.” Abigail slowly got to her feet, using the wall as a support to reach her full height. “Please leave. I will have no part in your schemes.”

 

 

Eleanor gave her one last look before retrieving the torch from the wall and turning toward the door. The door however was already opening. Eleanor gasped and Abigail could observe her entire demeanour changing when she realized that the Captain had found her. Abigail expected rage, anger or hatred, but his gaze was full of disappointment, maybe even sadness. He looked at Eleanor for a long time before speaking, “You will turn on absolutely anyone, won’t you? This is how you repay me for everything I have done? I killed Low for you! But no, you only think of what you want, Eleanor! I should’ve seen it before! You only care about yourself! So, what is this? Thought you’d steal the girl from me. Leave me to die at the hands of my men?”

 

 

Abigail couldn’t fully grasp what was transpiring in front of her. She wished she could become one with the wall. The Captain advanced on Eleanor. She backed up until she hit the wall. Abigail could see the rage in his eyes now. He raised a hand as if to strike the other woman but it just sank back to his side. Dejectedly, he spoke, “Leave! And don’t ever come here again. Don’t talk to me, don’t even look at me, Eleanor, or I will kill you!” Despite his low voice, Abigail could feel his threat hanging in the air, cutting into her even if it was meant for the blonde woman. Abigail let out a startled gasp as the key ring Eleanor had been holding, hit the floor. The other woman fled from the cell quickly but the Captain stared at the wall for a long time. Abigail hardly dared to breathe. Finally, he retrieved the keys from the floor but before leaving, he gave her a long, hard look. Oh, how she longed to look away but something inside of her would not let her avert her eyes.

 

 

After an eternity had passed, the Captain wordlessly left her cell. Only once she no longer could hear his footfalls, she let herself slowly slide down the wall. What had she done?!

 

 

Abigail regained consciousness slowly. Her body aching, her bones cold. She slowly opened her eyes. Why was she…? And then she remembered what had happened last night. Why she had spent the night curled up against the stone wall. She slowly stretched her legs. Her knees hurt after having been bent for hours. She winced once they were fully stretched out. Her muscles were cramping after being forced to lengthen.

 

 

She finally opened her eyes. It was then she realized that she wasn’t alone in her cell. The door was open and that meant that he was here. Her eyes swept the room and found his. Hidden in the shadows once again, leaning against the wall. Evidently, he had been watching her. She briefly wondered how long he had been here. She tried to speak but no sound would come out. How long had it been since she had something to drink? She cleared her throat and tried again. “Captain Vane, I…”, her voice trailing off. She didn’t know what to say but the silence made her uncomfortable. He was still staring at her, unmoving like a statue. She could see the sadness from last night but just barely. It was hidden behind other emotions. Resolve, determination maybe. But the last one surprised her: curiosity. His eyes had narrowed again like the first time they talked, his head slightly tilted to the side. Despite the pain still wrecking through her body, Abigail began to get up. Her old vantage point, made her feel small, vulnerable. Somehow, she felt the need to demonstrate the opposite. Slowly, oh so very slowly, she got to her feet, once again using the wall as leverage. Finally, she came to a stand, still gripping onto the wall for support, her muscles cramping, her knees almost buckling.

 

 

Suddenly Captain Vane moved from his position on the other side of the cell. He came to stand in front of her. So close that she was sure that he could feel her breath on his skin. She dared not to raise her eyes and look at him. Her breath kept hitching in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it were out of fear or out of something else. By the time he spoke, her legs had almost stopped hurting.

 

 

“Why are you still here?”

 

 

Prompted by his voice, she raised her head. She slowly let her eyes wander up. She took note of all the chains and leather cords resting on his chest. The beard on his neck and face. Oddly, she found herself wanting to touch it. To find out whether it was scratchy or soft, but she did not dare move a muscle. At last, her eyes met his. The colour of his eyes reminded her of the stormy sea. Soon after setting out from England they had encountered a storm so bad that it had almost forced them to turn back. Her governess had ordered her to stay below deck, but she had snuck outside briefly to gaze at the waves that were battering the ship. She could almost see said waves swirling in the depth of his eyes.

 

 

It took her long to gather the courage to speak. She was sure that any moment now he would leave. She had seen how intense he could get last night and it had frightened her to the bone. She had never encountered such behaviour before she met the pirates. She had always been shielded from passionate emotions. Taken out of a room with a gentle tug on her arm, and a promise that everything would be alright. There was no need to concern herself. She realized that she had been thrown into this new world wholly unprepared. There was nobody looking out for her, instead she was the object of a very powerful struggle and it dawned on her that by refusing Eleanor and thus Captain Flint, she had allied herself with the man standing before her.  

 

“We had an agreement.” Her voice was stronger than she expected. “A word once given should be honoured.” She inhaled sharply, suddenly becoming aware that she had been holding her breath before speaking. But there was more, and she felt compelled to tell him the truth. “But I… I must admit that I was tempted to run. To let them guide me home. But I know that their plan cannot work. Lady Hamilton informed of what they were trying to achieve. She, however, omitted to mention Captain Flint. Deliberately, maybe. But when El… she spoke his name, I knew they would fail.”


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as she had spoken, Captain Vane took a step back, mulling over the information she had just provided him.

 

“What makes you so sure of that? Whatever it is, it must be quite a story.”

 

 

Abigail was hesitant to speak. Whatever she said would determine her future. Up until now, she had never had to advocate for herself. Was even actively discouraged from doing so. Others, her elders, knew better: her parents, her governess, her teacher, the church. Distraught, she started wringing her hands. She was stalling, she realized, so she abruptly dropped her arms to her side, stood up straight and started speaking.

 

 

“I have always thought my father to be an honourable and reasonable man. At one point, he was even reasonable about the issue regarding piracy. That was until I received a letter from him, years ago, in which recounted to me the story of a ship headed for Charles Town, attacked by pirates. The ship, which was attacked, was named the _Maria Aleyne_.”

 

 

The longer Abigail talked, the steadier her voice grew. She had been mostly staring at the floor, but now she looked straight into his eyes.

 

 

“The ship was set upon by Captain Flint and his men, and in the midst of the bloody assault there was one particular victim. A very important man, traveling under an assumed name. His name was Alfred Hamilton, Lord Alfred Hamilton. Lady Hamilton’s father-in-law. I don’t know why, but my father was, no IS, of the conviction that Captain Flint hunted and then executed said man. Ever since then, my father’s biggest goal has been to eradicate the pirate threat. I am certain that he would not agree to work with Captain Flint.”

 

 

When she had said her piece, the Captain started pacing up and down the length of her cell again. The sight of it now a familiar one. He seemed to be processing the information she had told him. Clearly, he had not heard about this particular prize that had fallen into the hands of Captain Flint. He once again came to a stop in front of her.

 

 

“And your father has talked to you about this? I had the feeling that you and he weren’t particularly close.”

 

 

Abigail nodded. It was true. They had been separated for so long by the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Would he even recognize her upon their reunion? Would she? It would be ten years this summer that he had left her all alone in a big, empty house haunted by the happier times of the past. There had been servants, of course but they couldn’t replace a family. She had loved her first governess. She had been with her as long as she could remember, but she had retired when Abigail was nine years old. Abigail smiled wistfully before she remembered who she was talking to. She briefly closed her eyes, and then spoke.

 

 

“In his letters, he writes of nothing but his work.”

 

 

That seemed to pique his interest but instead of asking all the questions that Abigail was expecting, he said nothing. Just gave her that calculating look again. Fleetingly she wondered what he was thinking about. He was so different from her. How did a man come to be a pirate in the first place? What would it be like to live in his world? She knew, of course, of some of the crimes he had committed, yet he was nothing like she had imagined. He was intimidating, yes. Frightening, and subscribed to questionable morals. But clearly, he wasn’t the monster her father had painted pirates as. Clearly, he was capable of love if last night’s events were anything to go by. And, could a monster love? Could it be loved?

 

 

Abigail felt as if she were losing herself. The clear structures and rules that had so far governed her world, cracking and crumbling under the weight of her experiences. She was startled out of her reverie when he advanced on her again. She instinctively took a step back but she couldn’t withdraw further. The walls of her cell were impeding her retreat, forcing her to face whatever would come her way. She couldn’t help but cower when he placed both of his hands on the wall on either side of her head, effectively trapping her against the wall. He was staring down at her, straight into her soul. She couldn’t take it, she had to avert her eyes. Only then did he speak, a hint of amusement in his voice.

 

 

“It seems you and I have a lot more to talk about, Miss Ashe.”

 

 

He stared at her for a few more seconds before abruptly turning and leaving the cell. Only once Abigail heard the key turning in the lock, did she let out the breath that she didn’t even realized she was holding. She slowly made her way over to her makeshift bed. Once there she ungracefully sank down on the bed. It was as if all her strength had suddenly left her. What more could he possibly want from her? She prayed for sleep to come. She was so exhausted. She could barely remember what restful sleep was like. And water. And food! Only then she registered how hungry she was, but there was no more food. The days-old, maggoty bread that she hadn’t eaten had fully been devoured by the creatures that lived down here. Abigail turned to face the wall and let her eyes drift closed. Her thoughts drifting from here to there, sleep eluding her, but at the same time, she was unable to focus on anything.

 

 

Hours went by before the Captain returned to her cell at twilight, but this time Abigail didn’t get up. Propriety obviously demanded that one should always greet a guest with the utmost welcome but Abigail couldn’t muster the strength to get up and he probably couldn’t care less. He stayed in the doorway for a while, probably waiting for her to react to his appearance in some way, but she still couldn’t make herself move. Finally, the silence was disturbed by his gruff voice.

 

 

“Miss Ashe?”

 

 

She still couldn’t muster enough strength to move. Maybe if he thought her asleep he would leave her alone for tonight. But instead of the door closing she could hear him approaching. He spoke her name again but this time his words were accompanied by him grabbing her shoulder and slightly shaking her. The touch was much gentler than she expected but it startled her nonetheless. However, at the same time this was finally enough to snap her out of the state she had found herself in. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as possible. He had gotten up from his crouching position as well and moved over to the door.

 

 

“Come with me.”

 

 

This was not what Abigail had expected. Not at all, but she was glad to leave her cell for however long he saw fit. He led her up several flights of stairs and down many a corridor. When he finally stopped, she estimated that they had ended up at the opposite end of the fort. The signs of destruction here were much more severe. In many places the walls had gaps so big that Abigail could’ve squeezed through them without much effort.

 

 

She still had no idea what his intentions were when he led her through yet another door, but she suddenly found herself in a set of living quarters. The room held the remains of what once had been a big dining table and accompanying chairs. She could see that they had been either destroyed in the attack or had been deliberately been chopped up and were being used to fuel the fire that was burning in the enormous fireplace. On the opposite wall, she could see a doorway leading to what probably had been a bedroom at one point. It was now mostly filled with rubble and, to her surprise, she could see a slightly steaming bathtub sitting there. What in the world was he up to? Fear began to take hold of her. He said no harm would come to her so why was she here? What was that bathtub doing here? He couldn’t possibly. She slowly began to back away from him.

 

 

“Relax, Miss Ashe. I also keep my word. We’re leaving for Charles Town tomorrow evening. I can’t very well hand you over to your father looking like and smelling worse than a drowned rat.”

 

 

It took Abigail a moment to regain her composure. She couldn’t possibly refuse a bath. To finally be clean again, sounded heavenly. Wearily she moved into the other room. She had been feeling on edge ever since Low had taken her. She briefly wondered if she would ever be able to not feel as if she had to constantly look over her shoulder for danger. Her panic briefly returned when he followed her, but he only pulled down the sheet that had been strung up to act as a barrier between the two rooms. She could hear him sit down in one of the derelict chairs.

 

 

She walked over to the tub and felt the water. It wasn’t hot but it was warm enough. If she were honest, she wouldn’t have cared if the water had been ice cold. She could see a bar of soap precariously balancing on the edge of the tub and were those clean clothes over there on that toppled beam? She looked back at the improvised curtain. It would be so easy for him to just come in here. There wasn’t anything she could do to prevent it, but in the end, her desire to finally be clean again won out. She slowly started removing the dress. She had been wearing it for weeks now. What had originally been a white dress was now stained brown and red. More quickly she removed her stays. They were even more disgusting. They stuck to her skin in places through a mixture of dirt and sweat. She flung them as far away from her as possible and quickly got into the tub.

 

 

She was in heaven. It was a simple as that, and the first few minutes in the tub she spent simply enjoying the warm water. But soon enough her thoughts drifted to the pirate that was waiting for her in the next room. Resolutely she lowered her head into the water, wetting her hair and scalp. She emerged with a little sigh and grabbed the bar of soap. She quickly lathered up her hair and rinsed it in the tub. Then she stood up and covered the rest of her body in soap. Acutely aware of the man in the next room, she hurried along. The sheet covering the doorway after all only went so far in protecting her modesty and privacy. She quickly stepped out of the tub when she was as clean as she was going to get, and dried herself off. The clothes she had been provided with were utilitarian, much like what she had seen Eleanor wear and very different to what Abigail was used to. She felt strange without stays on, but nothing could beat wearing clean clothes again. There even was a pair of shoes, a bit too narrow for her feet but she would make do.

 

 

She had busied herself tidying up the tiny room just so that she didn’t have to face him for another few minutes, but there wasn’t much too do. She had folded the towel and hung it neatly over the edge of the tub. She had briefly debated trying to clean her clothes but decided not to bother after she had realized that she could smell them from across the room. Instead she had gathered them up into a pile and set them on the beam she had found the clean clothes on.

 

 

Abigail took several deep breaths before stepping out from behind the makeshift curtain. Captain Vane was sitting, no lounging, in a high-backed armchair near the fire. His long legs were stretched out and his head resting against the back of the chair. The fire was alternately bathing his face in light and shadows. He was staring into the fire and it seemed as if he hadn’t noticed her, yet. His left hand was absent-mindedly playing with a golden Escudo. The coin flicking across his fingers from left to right and back again. It was mesmerising, almost hypnotic. Abigail had to stop herself from going over to him. She didn’t even know what she would do but it seemed obvious to her that he was much more affected by what had happened with Eleanor than he was willing to let anybody see. No, Abigail, she scolded herself, you mustn’t feel sympathy for a pirate. But even though she knew this to be true she still could feel the picture of these men that her father had painted fading even further.

 

 

She granted him a few more moments of peace before averting her eyes and clearing her throat. He quickly snapped out of his reverie. Abigail only looked at him once he had left the chair by the fire. She noticed that the golden coin had safely been tucked away into one of his bracers. Before he could address her, Abigail spoke.

 

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

He acknowledged her thanks with a curt nod. He didn’t speak but motioned her to follow him further. By now, night had truly fallen but thanks to the bath Abigail was wide awake. She had forgotten how good it felt to be clean. It was as if some of the bad experiences of the past weeks had been washed away with the water.

 

 

It wasn’t long before they reached their next destination. Apparently, he had led her to the mess hall of the fort. As soon as she smelled the food that was cooking in the nearby kitchen her stomach let out an embarrassing growl. She could feel her face go beet red but it seemed nobody here much cared about the noises her stomach was making. Luckily the mess hall was almost deserted. Finally, the Captain pointed to an empty bench and told her to sit down. It wasn’t long before somebody brought food and drink to the table. Water, bread and some undefinable stew had been placed before her. It was nothing like the fine dishes she was used to, yet it was the most delicious meal she ever had in her life, and she dug in without much thinking. Even forgetting about saying grace before her meal.

 

 

Silently he watched her eat her meal, but she had forgotten about everything around her. The only thing that mattered now was the food in front of her. She tried pacing herself. She knew she would upset her stomach if she would eat to quickly but it required her entire attention.


	6. Chapter 6

The Captain waited to speak until nothing was left of the meal that had been placed in front of her.

 

“I have a few more questions. Once you have answered them to my satisfaction, you’ll be moved to the ship. As I said before, we will set sail for Charles Town as soon as night falls tomorrow evening. If all goes well you’ll be rid of me in a few weeks’ time.” Abigail nodded but made no further movement or comment.

 

“Do you know of any Royal Navy vessels currently at Charles Town? Or any other vessels that may try to interfere when I arrive in Charles Town?”

 

Abigail tried to remember what her father had written in his letters. Most of them had been long, recounting the efforts of turning the small colony into a respectable province in his Majesty’s Great Empire. He had included small incidents showcasing “… _the dire need for order and law_ …” as her father had put it as well as great recounts of the raids the tribes of the interior had waged upon the English settlements.

 

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak. She swallowed, before responding to his question, “As far as I am aware there are no Navy ships anywhere near Charles Town. My father lamented said lack in one of the last letters I received back in England, but this information is now many months out of date. If you don’t mind me asking, Captain Vane. What _is_ the actual date?”

 

“11th of April.”

 

A short answer, right to the point but it told her all she needed to know. It was almost three months to the date that she had set out from England on the _Good Fortune_. It wasn’t the safest time of year to set sail but it was the time that would get her to Charles Town with ample time to prepare for the season. After they had weathered the storm that had beset them on the coast of England, they had made their way south to the coast of Africa and then they had set out on their course west across the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. And then, they had encountered Low. After it was clear that they were being pursued by pirates, the Captain had sent her and her governess to hide. He had been sure that they would be free to continue after giving up their cargo. Instead, all of them: the crew, the Captain, her governess, now lay at the bottom of the ocean.

 

If Captain Vane spoke the truth and she was sure he did because why would there be a need to lie about something so simple as a date, then her ship was more than three weeks overdue in Charles Town. As an afterthought, she also realized that she had completely missed her birthday, the 19th of March which was two days after the predicted arrival date of the _Good Fortune_. Instead, she would now arrive over a month late on a pirate vessel.

 

She was deep in thought, her brow furrowed. She had been in the company of pirates for at least a month and it would be several weeks before they arrived in Charles Town. This would, no doubt, irreparably damage her reputation. No longer would she be the coveted daughter of a governor. Instead she would be the girl that had spent time among pirates even if it was unwillingly. But she found, she wasn’t much disturbed by the thought. Getting married, having children were the aspirations of the past. For now, she just wanted to be safe and she were destined to become a spinster, so be it!

 

Before she could continue that line of though, she was startled out of her thoughts by his voice.

 

“Miss Ashe, do continue!”

 

“I… I apologize. My information is at least 7 months old so I wouldn’t trust it much. Though I’m relatively certain that Colonel Rhett’s two pirate hunter ships still patrol the waters around Carolina.”

 

And so, it continued. He asked a question, she provided an answer. They continued this twisted dance until well into the night.

 

“How many men are stationed there at present?”

 

“My father was supplied with a full company at the beginning of his duties, but skirmishes with the Natives have led to a fair number of deaths and not enough men have been sent over from England to compensate for the losses.”

 

By the end, Abigail’s head was swimming. The Captain had asked her many a question about the defences of the town. He had also asked her things she didn’t think relevant at first (“Any reports of recent outbreaks of diseases?) but surprisingly he had seemed fit to answer her incredulous exclamation of, “Why would you want to know _that_?”. Any recent outbreaks would have obviously weakened his enemies, putting him in a safer position on his approach, but it would also mean that they may avoid resupplying at their destination for fear of taking aboard contaminated water or food stuffs.

 

She hated to admit it and would never speak this out loud, but she was impressed. Not that she knew much about these matters, but it seemed to her that he thought about every little minute detail that could interfere with his plans.

 

When his seemingly unending questions finally stopped, Abigail relaxed slightly. She had mastered another step, another step that had brought her closer to her new home.

 

The Captain signalled to one of his men to ready the cart that would take them to the longboat which would then in turn convey them to the ship anchored in the bay. Afterwards he grabbed a torch off the wall and led her down several stairs and corridors until they reached the courtyard. Just like the rest of the fort, it bore heavy marks of the cannon fire. The walls had been breached severely in several areas.

 

The cart was waiting for them but before they climbed on it, the captain grabbed her by her upper arms, “Listen to me closely, Miss Ashe. As you know, there are those here In Nassau that desire your company for their own designs. We need to leave the fort undetected. Otherwise they will pursue us. We will climb into the cart and hide under the tarp. Be quiet and don’t move a muscle. Do you understand?”

 

Abigail looked up at him and nodded. He quickly got on the cart and extended her a hand to help her scramble up. Abigail hesitated for the briefest moment before placing her hand in his, but there simply was no other way she could get on the cart without his help.

 

A short while later, the cart began its journey to the longboat waiting for them in the dark of the night. He was sat in one corner of the cart and Abigail in the other. A barrel between them, and a tarp over them. To an onlooker, the cart seemed to be transporting just inconspicuous barrels, but it was all part of Vane’s plan. The captain had told her, that Flint would be closely watching his ship, still trying to prevent them from leaving so they would be sneaky. Abigail and he would board first, during the night. The men then would steal away from the fort in small groups throughout the day and make their way on board. Hopefully unnoticed both by the pirates on shore and on Flint’s man-o’-war.

 

Abigail closed her eyes and willed her breathing to stay under control while the cart was slowly rattling along the road. Were they really in danger of an ambush? Even after she had turned down Eleanor Guthrie? Was turning her down really a good idea? She briefly wondered where she would be right now if she had accepted the other woman’s offer. Asleep, most likely. Somehow that thought was most humorous to her and she struggled not to laugh. Only later, safely onboard the ship, would she recognize the feeling for what it really was: panic.

 

Despite all expectations, they made it safely to the longboat which was hidden in the darkness. Two crew men were waiting for them. The Captain and the cart driver briefly conversed in hush tones before the driver set off again. The four of them wasted no time to get into the longboat. Abigail and the Captain both crouching low in the boat. Abigail much more successful due to her small statue, but hopefully whoever would look out at the sea this late at night would be too drunk to notice the crouched shape of the Captain. No lantern or torch was lit and soon enough the crewman started rowing out to sea. The only light was the moon shining overhead. The only sound the oars cutting through the waves, over and over and over again. It was almost peaceful. Of course, only if one disregarded the fact that Flint and his men could surprise them at any moment.

 

However, this part of their journey was also undisturbed. They pulled alongside the ship, outside of the view of the man-o’-war. Abigail let her eyes roam over the ship. It seemed familiar somehow. She mulled over that feeling for a moment but then her eyes landed on the bow. The letters of the ship’s name had been removed but even in the moonlight she could see it: the ghost of the letters preserved in the much darker wood that had been protected by the letters. _Fancy_. The ship that had formerly belonged to Low. Her eyes found Captain Vane’s, almost instinctively. Not only had he taken Low’s life and his cargo, apparently, he had also taken his ship. She was sure she could see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

 

The moment was ended when he pointed to the ladder on the side of the ship and addressed her, “Up you go, Miss Ashe.” Her eyes snapped from the ladder back to him. Surely, he wasn’t expecting her to go up the ladder? She stared at him openly for a while but he just motioned for her to go up. Abigail stood up, trying to keep her balance. The longboat was anything but steady. Once she was sure she wasn’t going to fall over, she gripped onto the ladder. The lower rungs were wet and slightly slippery.

 

“We don’t have all night, Miss Ashe.”

 

She briefly debated telling him that she simply couldn’t do it, but in the end her own pride prevented her from making that admission. So, she gathered her courage and slowly started climbing up. Once she had cleared the wet rungs, climbing became much easier and she made it to the top safely. There, however, she was faced with having to climb over the gunwale, but before she had to attempt it on her own. A hand was extended from above and she took it without hesitation. A literal bear of a man heaved her onboard. She was taken aback by his unkempt appearance but nonetheless, he deserved her gratitude. “Thank you.” He answered her with a nod and a, “Don’t mention it, lass.” Abigail balked at such a familiar way of addressing her. No one had ever dared to speak to her in such a way, but ever conscious of the company that she was in she didn’t say a word.

 

Soon enough the Captain landed next to her, having jumped off the gunwale onto the deck. He addressed the crewman that had been waiting for them, “Any movement on the man-o’-war, Williams?”

 

Mr. Williams shook his head. “All’s quiet so far, Cap’n.”

 

“Good. If that changes, notify me immediately.”

 

“Ay, Cap’n,” answered Mr. Williams and moved back to where he had been waiting for their arrival.

 

The Captain turned back to Abigail and motioned for her to follow him. They ended up in the captain’s cabin. The moonlight had plunged the room into a spectacle of light and shadows. The bright light almost enough to make out all the colours of the items spread around the cabin, but the shadows were impenetrably dark. He pointed to the chair in front of the desk and told her to sit. He came to rest in the captain’s chair behind the desk.

 

Before he could speak, both of their eyes were drawn to one of the corners of the room. A faint scratching had alerted them that they weren’t alone. Abigail hardly dared to breath. Was it one of Flint’s men? Had somebody cleverly hidden aboard, waiting for them? But instead of the noises of an attacker, the only thing that reached her ears was a loud and angry, “Meow.” It was… a cat?! The cat clearly was angry at being disturbed and made its way over to the pair of them. Unceremoniously it jumped onto the desk and sat down in front of the Captain, still softly meowing. Clearly expecting to be petted. Much to Abigail’s surprise the Captain obliged, giving it a few, quick pats on the head before shooing it away. The cat turned away from him. Clearly upset in the way that only cats can be when you deny them their head scratches. Instead, it focused on Abigail, moving toward her while intently sniffing the air. It was then the cat decided that Abigail would be much better suited to be her resting place and it jumped into Abigail’s lap. It turned in a circle a few times before settling down and bumping her hand repeatedly with its head.

 

Maybe it was the stress of the past months or maybe it was just the way the cat acted, but Abigail couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It had been a long time since she had encountered something so innocent, _so cute_. She was astonished to find that the captain was laughing as well. It made him seem much younger, much more carefree like she had been told that the pirates were. Carefree, with no regard for others but so far, she had only encountered the opposite.

 

“It seems you have made a new friend, Miss Ashe.”

 

She looked down at the cat that was now contently purring and then back up at him. A small smile on her face, that she wasn’t even aware off.

 

“It seems so. What’s its name?”

 

“That would be ‘The Queen’.”

 

Abigail looked at him incredulously. Leave it to the pirates, to come up with such a name.

 

“Jack named her. It was funnier when we still had an actual queen.”

 

Abigail had no idea who this Jack person was, but the look on his face suggested that he might be a friend of some sorts. Though said friend’s humour was more than questionable. Instead of thinking more about the man on the other side of the desk, Abigail chose to concentrate on the happily purring calico cat in her lap. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him get up and move to the other side of the room. She could hear him pouring drinks and soon enough, a cup of wine was placed on the desk in front of her. He, however, did not return to his chair. Instead he leaned against the desk just off her left side.

 

“Now, Miss Ashe, once we’re under way you’ll be free to move about the ship as you please, though I would suggest keeping to this cabin and the deck. But until then you must stay here. The ship must appear deserted to Flint and his men. If they think we are leaving they may make a rash decision.”

 

Abigail nodded her head. She really didn’t want to meet Flint. Not after defying him.

 

She reached for the cup of wine he had brought, and held it up to her nose. _Madeira wine_. She took a small sip, _and a good one, too_. She had another sip and let her eyes wander around the cabin, carefully avoiding looking at him directly. The cabin was in disarray, to put it mildly. And that dark substance on the floor over there, was that blood? Was that _his_ blood? Was this where he _died_? She turned back to the Captain who, it seemed, had followed her gaze and had seen it land on the stained floor.

 

“Is that where…,” her voice trailed off.

 

“Is that where I killed Low, you mean?”

 

Abigail gave only the slightest of nods. His voice had changed. Taken on this cadence that she could only describe as dark.

 

“Yes.”

 

Abigail inhaled sharply. She hadn’t even realized that she had been holding her breath while waiting for him to speak.

 

“What did you do with his body?”

 

He looked at her. The same expression on his face that he had displayed back in her cell when he had first told her about the demise of Ned Low.

 

“Threw his body overboard and put his head on a pike on the beach.”

 

She inhaled sharply again.

 

“Good!”

 

The same word she had spoken before and she meant it. Afterwards, she realized she had the same darkness in her voice that she had heard in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhett didn’t actually outfit the pirate hunter vessels until 1716, but I moved it to 1715 to fit in with the timeline of Black Sails.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sorry that it took me a while to update but my brain decided that it would be best to write chapter 8 before chapter 6. xD
> 
> I have also decided that this entire fic will be from Abigail's perspective. I was originally going to switch between both her and Vane. Instead, there shall be a companion piece in the future entirely from HIS point of view. :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split up this chapter. Had the first 3/4 written for ages but had a bit of a block with the rest. I think I know how I'm going to resolve that bit though so next chapter should arrive soon-ish. :D

The few hours of the night that were left, passed in silence. Captain Vane occasionally left the cabin to confer with Mr. Williams on deck, but there was no sudden movement on the man-o’-war, no sudden boarding party invading their ship.

 

By the time the sun began peeking over the horizon, Abigail was exhausted. She had been tired before they had boarded the ship but the suspense and tension she experienced prevented her from falling asleep. She had never stayed up an entire night before. It was a very peculiar feeling. Her head felt as if it were wrapped in wool. It was hard to keep her thoughts on track and the movement of her limbs were sluggish and uncoordinated. The cat was still perched on her lap and as a result one of Abigail’s legs had fallen asleep.

 

The Captain was currently on deck, getting another update from Mr. Williams. The first crewmen would presumably start arriving soon. Abigail, however, was currently faced with the problem of how to remove the sleeping cat from her lap. She tried lightly pushing the cat but it wouldn’t move an inch.

 

“Come on, little one. Let me up. Please?”

 

Abigail was glad that he wasn’t here to see her talking thusly to a cat. But the cat was the only gentle thing she had encountered for weeks. The only truly friendly creature she had met. It made sense to afford it the same curtesy. To her surprise the cat reacted to her voice and hopped off her lap. She gingerly rose, balancing on one foot and trying to wake up her other leg by lightly shaking it. She endured the pins and needles that accompanied the waking of the limb. When they were finally over, she tentatively took a few steps about the cabin. Up until a few days ago, this had been Low’s domain. Most of the things before her, probably belonged to him originally. The knowledge that Captain Vane had taken everything from Low immensely satisfied her. It meant, in a twisted sort of way, that she had won. He had tried to take everything from her but here she was, still alive and he was rotting away at the bottom of the ocean. It was strange how easy it was to switch between her tender, gentle feelings for the cat and the burning hatred that she felt for Low. Emotions that were such polar opposites, yet they could both exist in her at the same time.

 

Her gaze swept across the rest of the room. There was a small bed, tucked away in the corner. The idea of lying in a proper bed was alluring but the thought of lying in the same bed, touching the same sheets that Low had used made her shudder with disgust. No, she decided, she would rather sleep on the floor than in a bed _he_ had occupied. The entire cabin really was in a terrible state. Not just from the fight, she assumed that happened here, but it was crowded with odd bits of cargo, loose goods, sailing equipment and so on. It was more as if this room had been used as an additional store room and not like the exclusive quarters of the captain. The captain of the _Good Fortune_ had kept his quarter immaculate. Abigail and her governess had taken most evening meals there with him, removed from the ordinary sailors eating in the galley since her governess had deemed them unfit company.

 

Finally, in the opposite corner of the room she spotted something useable: a hammock. It was tucked away into a corner for storage purposes, both ends currently resting on the same hook. Not her favourite resting place but she had to make do with whatever was available to her. She looked around and quickly found the second hook.

 

It took Abigail a while to set up the hammock properly. It looked deceptively light and the hooks were relatively high off the ground. Somebody as tall as the Captain would have no issues installing the hammock properly but Abigail was quite a bit shorter so she had to struggle on her tiptoes to get it over the other hook. She desperately hoped that he wouldn’t mind that she had moved things around in the cabin, but she was so tired that she didn’t want to wait any longer.

 

Wearily she took off her shoes and climbed into the hammock, glad that she was alone so he didn’t see her struggle to get in. Luckily there was a blanket stored inside the hammock. It smelled of rum and smoke, but even though it was pretty warm in the cabin cold had settled into her bones. She got comfortable in the hammock and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

 

Finally, she allowed her eyes to close and slowly drifted off to sleep. The last thing she registered was the cat jumping into the hammock with her, crawling under the blanket and cuddling up to her side. Abigail smiled contently at the warmth the little creature offered her. She was asleep within seconds.

 

Abigail didn’t wake again until the sun was high in the sky. It had heated the cabin to an almost uncomfortable warmth and in her sleep, she had thrown off the blanket. The cat, however, was still by her side, contently sleeping. Abigail slowly opened her eyes, fully expecting to see the Captain somewhere in the cabin. To her surprise, she found the cabin was empty. She languidly stretched her limbs, disturbing the cat in the process, and began the arduous task of climbing out of the hammock. She supposed getting in and out of one was easy enough to do while wearing trousers, but in a skirt or dress it was decidedly less so.

 

After she pulled on the shoes, her eyes fell on the food and drink that had been left on the table. She cautiously approached it, expecting an equally unappealing meal like the one she had found in her cell. But instead it was a plate of relatively fresh bread and dried meat, both decidedly devoid of maggots, and some water.

 

She had just sat down and started reaching for the food, when the cabin door was opened. Not expecting to be disturbed, Abigail jumped in her seat and immediately pulled back her hand. The Captain stepped into the cabin and gave her a strange look.

 

“Not hungry, Miss Ashe?”

 

Abigail shook her head. “I mean, yes I am hungry. I just wasn’t sure if this food had been left for me. I…”, her voice trailing off.

 

Captain Vane moved to sit on the chair behind the desk. Having received his permission, Abigail tentatively reached out for the bread and began eating it slowly and carefully. Fully aware, that he was watching her. Her eyes widened in surprise when he reached out and poured them both a drink. He took and deep drink and then leaned back in his chair.

 

“Now, Miss Ashe, despite what you may have heard, I like to think that I can be quite reasonable. Have I not kept my word, so far?”

 

Abigail swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry and making it impossible to speak more than a whisper. Instead she nodded.

 

“I mean, what I told you last night. As long as you continue cooperate, you are free to roam the ship. Though I do advice caution when interacting with my crew. Most of them never have been in polite company. Do you understand?”

 

Abigail reached for her cup and took a drink before she answered him in the affirmative. He finished his before placing it on the desk and vacating the chair in the same motion. He moved over to one of the windows and opened it. The heat was oppressive and the open window offered some light reprieve but it soon became apparent that this wasn’t the reason why he had opened the window. Instead he took out his spyglass and raised it to his eye, presumably looking at the man-o’-war again.

 

Abigail cleared her throat quietly and then asked the question that was burning on her mind, “If you… if you don’t mind me asking, how long until we reach Charles Town?”

 

He closed the window and stored his spyglass before turning around to face her. Leaning against the window, he spoke, “Depends. If Flint doesn’t give us trouble and the weather stays fair, we’ll get there in a week’s time or even less. The winds are currently in our favour. Pray they stay that way and you’ll be home soon enough, Miss Ashe.”

 

A week! That was all it took. Then her ordeal would finally be over. Abigail was surprised to hear that it was such a short distance between civilization and the wilderness of Nassau. She had thought Charles Town much further away but then geography had only marginally been a topic covered by her teachers. She, of course, knew the borders of the British Empire and the major colonies, but that was the extent of her knowledge.

 

The rest of the day passed in a nervous haze. There was nothing to do, yet at the same time, tension was high and an anxious energy permeated the entire ship. Every time, additional crewmembers arrived on board they would check for activity on the man-o’-war, internally readying themselves for potential combat. Only, nothing happened, nothing at all.

 

However, as soon as night fell there was a flurry of activity on the ship. The crew was trying to get under way as fast as possible. They even went so far as to ‘slip the cable’, shaving precious minutes off the time needed to depart. Abigail stood in the doorway to the captain’s cabin, watching their departure. Sundown had brought cool air with it and she was relishing it. It was also quite fascinating to watch the crewman work. It was like a dance almost, a brutish, coarse dance but captivating nonetheless. She had never gotten to watch the men on the _Good Fortune_ work. ‘A lady does not stare at men’, as her governess reminded her on the first day. Abigail had then kept her head down, focusing on books, needlework and occasional hushed conversations with the governess. Up until the pirates had boarded them, Abigail’s voyage had been decidedly uneventful, boring even.

 

Before long, they were underway, taking the second exit of the harbour that wasn’t guarded by the man-o’-war where everything was still deceptively quiet. Though in passing she had heard Captain Vane voice his suspicions about the absence of any lighted lanterns on the man-o’-war. They knew it wasn’t deserted. You really wouldn’t leave such a ship unguarded. So, why did the lanterns stay unlit? It was safe to assume that a notorious captain like Flint wouldn’t give up so easily.

 

The winds were strong, as far as Abigail could tell, and they quickly left Nassau behind them. The twinkling lights growing ever fainter in the distance. Good riddance, Abigail thought. Hopefully she would never again set foot in this place. Instead of looking back, Abigail would look forward to her new life in the Americas. She would make a life for herself there. It may not be the one she set off for all those months ago, but she was determined to make the best of it. As she was pondering this, she slowly made her way to the bow of the ship. As promised nobody stepped in her way and apart from a few pointed looks from the crew, none of them interacted with her in any way.

 

She didn’t know how long she stood there at the bow of the ship. They had turned north, at least that’s what she assumed, as soon as they had cleared the bay and at last, she was finally on the direct way home. She had relished that thought for the first few minutes she had spent standing there, but now she had been captivated by the ocean. It was mesmerizing, really. The moonlight made the water sparkle. The only sounds she could hear, now that the noises of departure had died down, was the bow of the ship cutting through the water, the ship creaking and the sails flapping overhead. It was strangely peaceful if one discarded the fact that she was currently on a pirate ship, of course.

 

Her peace was disturbed by the noise of approaching footfalls. She wistfully tore her eyes away from the water and focused on the person that was drawing nearer: Captain Vane. Instead of watching his approach she looked back out at the ocean. She might as well enjoy the last few seconds of peace and quiet that she had left. He came to stand next to her, but didn’t immediately speak. His close proximity unsettled her. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to quell her nervousness or to play down the strangeness of the moment, but something in her compelled her to speak.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

It took him much longer to answer than she had expected. She hadn’t even expected a direct answer at all. It had been a silly attempt at conversation, after all. But instead, he leaned again the aged wood of the railing next to her and nodded. She almost missed it, too. Whatever reason he had had to come and talk to her, seemed forgotten, lost in the shimmering waves before them. He stayed at the bow of the ship, his gaze lost to the sea long after Abigail had returned to the cabin and gone to sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know whether or not to apologize for the length of this chapter! XD
> 
> Enjoy!!

Abigail had been exhausted when she had retired for the night and she only woke up hours after the sun had risen. When she opened her eyes she fully expected him to be prowling around the cabin but a quick sweep of the room revealed an undisturbed room and more surprisingly an undisturbed bed. It seemed the Captain hadn’t been back at all to the cabin since the night before. The fact that the rest of yesterday’s dinner was still on the table only strengthened her suspicions.

 

She climbed out of her hammock and cautiously made her way over to the table. She spent as much time as possible eating the food, savouring her solitude. She was on edge every time she found herself in close quarters with the pirates. The nervousness was understandable, of course, for one never really knew what they would be capable of, but it was exhausting. Even now she could feel that unease creeping back into her mind. That sinking feeling that any moment now, her peace would be taken from her again. Instead of idly waiting for whatever might happen that day though, she took a few moments to collect herself. Then she stood up, smoothed out her clothes and hair, and then stepped out of the cabin onto the deck.

 

Abigail’s eyes surveyed the deck before her. It was crowded. Most of the crew seemed to be on deck but the captain was nowhere to be found. Unlike on the _Good Fortune_ where an officer had seen to discipline among the crew, none of that could be seen here. Most of the men were just lounging about on deck, and many of them had turned to look at her once she appeared. They were a frightful sight to behold in their dirty clothes and with their wild hair. Trying to appear as unfazed as possible, Abigail slowly made her way to the starboard gunwale where she once again stood, looking out at the wide expanse of ocean. Only this time it was glittering in the sunlight. The sun felt warm on her face but the winds were still strong and more than adequate to keep her cool. Maybe disappointed by her lack of reaction or simply because their cards and drinks offered more diversion, most of the crew quickly lost interest in her.

 

Ultimately, Abigail had to move to a shady spot on the deck. It was getting too warm in the sun. Propriety would dictate that she should retire to the cabin and not spend her time lounging about on deck but Abigail couldn’t bear the thought of going back into the sweltering heat of the cabin. As subtle as possible Abigail’s eyes scanned the deck. She was looking for a shady spot as far removed from the men as possible. Finally, she spied an empty spot that would suit her needs. Trying to appear nonchalant, Abigail walked to her selected spot and promptly sat down on the rough planks of the deck. She was tucked in besides a couple of barrels which were conveniently shielding her from most of the men. She closed her eyes and tried to relax as much as possible. The simple act of walking across deck had her on edge again. One more week, she thought, trying to regain some composure. One more week and then this would all be behind her.

 

Concentrating on her future proved difficult at best though, since the men by now were even deeper into their drinks and had taken up singing in addition to their card games. Listening to their songs, Abigail could feel herself blushing. Most of them seemed to revolve around sailing, women, or drinking. In all of her short life, Abigail had never heard of such rude songs, but judging by the loudness of the singing all the men seemed well acquainted with them. Abigail was sure she had never blushed so much in her entire life.

 

Abigail spent the next few hours in her spot. There was nothing for her to do there, but after being in captivity for so long she wasn’t ready to give up being outside, yet. By the time, three hours had passed Abigail was bored. It was ridiculous really, she thought. Here she was, travelling on a pirate ship captained by a violent, world-renowned pirate and she was bored out of her mind. Abigail quietly chuckled to herself.

 

“And what has you so amused today, Miss Ashe?”

 

Abigail’s only answer was a startled squeak. She had been so immersed in her thoughts that she had not seen nor heard his approach. Honestly! He always managed to show up at the more inopportune times.

 

“Just myself, Captain Vane.”

 

“And _why_ is that?”  


Was he honestly going to make her say it?! Abigail felt so silly, but he was still standing there, towering over her. She really should’ve stood up as soon as she had become aware of him. Abigail swallowed and cast her gaze downwards, before finally answering him.

 

“I’m… bored.”

 

There she had said it. Maybe he would leave her alone now. However, Abigail was not prepared for the laughter that followed. A deep, hearty laugh that made him seem much younger and much less serious. And infectious, too. Abigail tried to resist but in the end, she couldn’t help but join in. It was after all, quite a ridiculous thing to say. Quite a while passed, before they stopped laughing. It was a very surreal experience and later, at night, Abigail would often think back to this moment.

 

“I know it’s silly. I’m just not used to not having anything to occupy my time with.”

 

By now, he was leaning against one of the barrels and smirking down at her.

 

“Ah yes. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, are they not?”

 

This time it was Abigail who started laughing first. He just looked at her with a quizzical expression on his face. Abigail needed a few attempts before she could force the words that she wanted to speak out.

 

“Now, you sound just like my old governess.”

 

This brought on another round of laughter between them and it took them even longer to calm down. When they finally did, he looked at her for a moment with a calculating look in his eyes and then wordlessly turned around and vanished out of her sight.

 

Sharing these innocent jokes with him stirred up peculiar feelings that Abigail couldn’t accurately name. He seemed much more approachable now than he did when she first encountered him in the cell and that was strange. Unthinkable even. She was after all still his prisoner even if her prison was more accommodating than it had been under Low’s rule. He was a murderer and a thief. It shouldn’t be this easy to joke with him, to laugh with him, _to enjoy his company_. Even though the interaction was brief and ultimately meaningless, in the end she was sad to see him go. Frustrated, Abigail rubbed her face. Maybe her time spent among the pirates was affecting her more than she thought possible.

 

Abigail was surprised to realize that Captain Vane was returning to her, carrying a bundle of canvas, aided by a member of his crew. Wordlessly, they dropped the canvas in front of Abigail. The canvas looked a lot like sails. Questioningly, she looked up at Captain Vane who was quietly chuckling to himself.

 

“Well, you asked for something to do. Unless you want to climb up into the rigging and help Williams up there, this is the only thing that needs doing. I assume, you have mended things before?”

 

“Of course,” was Abigail’s short answer. Once again, more indignant than she possibly should be, but he didn’t seem to mind. She slowly started pulling the fabric apart. The sails almost seemed to be more holes than actual functioning sails. This was going to be a lot of work, she realized. But then, she _had_ asked for something to occupy her time and this would certainly do just that. Carefully, she took the offered yarn and needle from him. Noticing that, unlike in the fort where he had made her come to him to snatch the quill out of his hands, this time he was the one to close the distance between them.

 

“Notify one of the men or me, when you’re done for the day so we can store them.”

 

Abigail nodded and watched him as he made his way over to a group of sailors sitting on deck. Unceremoniously, he sat down with them and took a swig from the offered bottle of rum. A few seconds later, Abigail became aware that she was openly staring at him and she quickly lowered her eyes to the work that awaited her.

 

Mending the sails proved excellent at occupying her until dinner time. But by the time the ship’s bell rang to signal dinner, her stomach loudly reminded her that she had only eaten breakfast that day. There was no chance of avoiding having dinner with the pirates. At least she was spared the dreaded task of having to approach one of the men to put away the sails. Captain Vane had stayed on deck and out of the corner of her eyes, she could see him approaching right this moment. She finished the last stitch on this particular hole, made sure that it wouldn’t unravel and then stored the needle and yarn safely away in one of her pockets.

 

The captain escorted Abigail down to the mess while a couple of crew men quickly stored away the sail she had been working on. The air below deck was still stuffy and hot. The stench of the crew mixing with the smell of the cooking food. It was cramped and noisy, and Abigail felt unbelievably small and out of place. It didn’t help that most of the men were staring openly at her. Desperately, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

 

“What the fuck are you staring at, you filthy bastards? Never seen a woman before, have ya?”

 

As soon as the captain had spoken, the men broke out in raucous laughter but his words had the intended effect and the men returned to what they were doing before Abigail entered the room. They made their way over to a free table and in the end, Abigail ended up sitting between the captain and a random crew member. Both mostly ignored her during the meal and Abigail did her best to ignore her surroundings. She just focused on her food instead. It was surprisingly delicious.

 

 Still, she was glad when dinner time was over and he led her back on deck. Night had fallen by now. The waves once again sparkling in the moon light but unlike the night before, tonight it wasn’t quiet on deck. Most of the men had returned on deck as well and spirits were high. The singing even louder than before dinner time. It was too much, was just too foreign. Abigail needed to get away from all of this for now, so she made her way into the captain’s cabin.

 

Luckily, somebody had opened all the windows and most of the heat of the day had already escaped. Abigail sighed in relief. The cabin provided much needed space and the heavy door drowned out a lot of the noises from outside. The open windows let in the sounds of the ocean rather than the voices of the pirates. Glad for the distraction the waves offered her, Abigail went over to the windows and looked out to sea. The beautiful sight before her was enough to soothe her frayed nerves and slowly but surely, she could feel herself calm down. Her reverie was only disturbed once that evening by the meowing of The Queen. Abigail gladly let her into the cabin and was rewarded immediately by the soft purring of the cat.

 

It was still early when Abigail made her way over to the hammock. Even though the day had been uneventful, she was exhausted. As soon as she had laid down, the cat joined her in the hammock and Abigail pulled the blanket around the two of them. She was fast asleep in seconds, and didn’t even stir when Captain Vane entered the cabin much, much later.

 

The next morning, Abigail woke up with a start. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows and it her a moment to realize that the sound that woke her was the door closing: Captain Vane must have just left the room. She was tempted to try and go back to sleep, and ignore reality for a little while longer, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. It had always been like this much to her chagrin. With a groan entirely unbefitting a lady, Abigail swung her legs over the side of the hammock and put on her shoes. She combed through her hair with her fingers a few times, wishing she had a proper comb at her disposal, before making her way out of the cabin.

 

It was much earlier than she had originally thought. It seemed the sun had just fully risen. There was a light breeze on deck and a few clouds were lazily making their way across the sky. The pirate ship which had seemed so threatening yesterday, appeared much friendlier in the soft morning light. The deck was almost deserted. The only other people were the man manning the ship’s wheel and the captain, both turning around after hearing the door close behind her. Surprisingly, both acknowledged her with a nod of their heads and then went back to their conservation.

 

Instead of approaching the men, Abigail made her way aft, determined to enjoy the peace and quiet for a while longer. Abigail didn’t know why but she kept being drawn back to the sea, drawn in by the swirling waves and the ever-changing colour of the water. And once again, her silent introspection was disturbed by him.

 

“Not gonna jump, are you?”

 

She turned and looked at him incredulously. “Why would I?”

 

And then as soon as she had said it, she realized why somebody might jump. “Oh.” She shook her head. “I mean, no. I might have if I had the chance back when this was still _his_ ship, but he made sure that I couldn’t. It be exceptionally foolish now that I’m so close to…,” she trailed off. Originally intending to call it home but if she were honest her home was gone, sold to one of the other rich families in London and she would never see it again. “So close to the end of my journey.”

 

She fully expected him to leave after this brief exchange but instead, he leaned against the railing and continued talking.

 

“What will you do, once you get there?”

 

That question caught her off guard. It had all been laid out and planned for her, long before she had set out for Charles Town. If all had gone according to plan, she would be married by next year at the latest, but she knew how society worked. She had seen it happen to a distant relation. The woman had been caught in a compromising situation and even though it was later determined that it was all a misunderstanding and that nothing had happened, she was still shunned by society. Last Abigail had heard, she had completely withdrawn to one of her family’s homes in the countryside. She sighed heavily before finally answering his question.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

To her surprise, she found herself answering his question honestly.

 

“After this,” she gestured to the ship around her, “I’m sure society formed its opinion of me as soon as your letter reached Charles Town.”

 

He didn’t reply to what she had said, instead he gave a long calculating look. Abigail cursed herself when she found herself thinking that in the sunlight his eyes had the same exact colour as the ocean around them. She trained her eyes on the horizon and took a couple of breaths before continuing to speak.

 

“I am painfully aware that I’m still young, Captain Vane, but I am _not_ an idiot. I have seen similar things happening before. My father will try to fix it, of course. Money does help in these kinds of situations but I suspect this is too much even for a man in his position.”

 

The more Abigail talked about her situation the more frustrated she became. It was terribly unfair. It would be so much easier if she had been born a male though that would mean she probably would’ve have not been in this situation in the first place. Most likely, she would have accompanied her father on his journey to the Americas all those years ago. Infuriated, she slammed her fist down on the railing, drawing a chuckle from the man standing next to her.

 

“Please, Miss Ashe, don’t destroy my ship. I only just got her.”  


She looked at him, incredulous and at a momentary loss for words. Was that an actual attempt at making her feel better? She looked at him for a few moments. Nothing in his stance betrayed what was going inside that head of his, except his eyes Abigail noticed. She could just see a hint of a mischievous twinkle hiding in there. It was all it took and she burst out laughing. Once more, surprised at how _easy_ this was. It really shouldn’t be this easy to talk to the man dangling a death threat over her. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, the captain was called away by one of the crew who were slowly emerging from below deck, leaving Abigail to her thoughts.

 

The rest of the day passed much like the one before had. Abigail switching between idling sitting on deck and working on the sails. It was harder work than she had expected, the canvas heavy and rough in her hands but it offered welcomed distractions whenever her thoughts or eyes strayed where she didn’t want them to go.

 

Even her dreams that night didn’t want to grant her respite. In the beginning it was the same nightmare that she had before, of that fateful day the _Good Fortune_ encountered Low. The day he took almost everything from her, but unlike before, what woke her now was seeing _him_ standing over Low’s body, blood dripping from Low’s severed head right here in this very cabin. _He_ was covered in blood, _Low’s blood_ , from head to toe, a feral grin on his face. Every time Abigail woke, her heart was pounding so very hard but it wasn’t fear that she felt.

 

Abigail was the first one to leave the captain’s cabin the next morning. She had spent the last hour before sunrise trying to get the dream out of her head but was unsuccessful in doing so. As soon as it was light enough, she silently made her way out of the cabin and back to the same spot she occupied the day before. Abigail rubbed her face in frustration. The dream from last night still haunted her. She would be eternally grateful to him for dispatching Low, and though his treatment of her might be better, wasn’t he still just as violent as Low? A criminal? She knew that the answer to both those questions was a resounding yes. She knew it with her heart and soul, so why was she still drawn to him? She conjured up the image of him in her mind. Low’s blood slowly pooling on the floor before him. That dangerous glint in his eyes, the grin wild. He was like a wild animal and it send shivers down her spine. Angry at herself, she shook her head. It made absolutely no sense. She should want to run away in terror…

 

Her musings were disrupted when someone shoved a cup of steaming liquid in front of her face. The cup had certainly seen better days and she was dumbfounded for a few moments but then she noticed the smell. Was that tea? Momentarily distracted she reached out to grasp the cup and turned around with a smile, ending up face to face with Captain Vane. Her smile faltered for the briefest moment as images from the dream invaded her mind but she managed to get a grip on her emotions. She sighed in pleasure, closing her eyes in the process, after taking a small sip from the cup. The liquid was almost too hot to drink but she didn’t care. It had been far too long. She opened her eyes and looked back up at him. Her eyes widened. Had he been staring at her?

 

“Thank you. It has been far too long since I go to enjoy some tea.”

 

Only after she saw his eyes move downwards did she become aware that she had placed one of her hands on his forearm and had squeezed it in a gesture of appreciation while speaking. Abigail swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and she hastily removed her hand. Very briefly, she saw something like anger flicker in his eyes and she fully expected him to finally show her that dark side of his but instead he leaned against the railing and crossed his arms.

 

“You looked like you needed it.”

 

Abigail nodded before taking another sip from the cup. As always, the tea helped to soothe her frayed nerves.

 

“I did not sleep well. Nightmares.” _But you chased them away_. _Sort of_. “About Low.” Abigail sighed and looked down at the cup cradled in her hands. “I know he’s dead and can’t ever hurt me again, but I felt so powerless. There was nothing I could do. That was the most frightening part, realizing that I had no way to stop what was happening to me. Or the others.” Abigail stopped speaking for a moment and took a couple of breaths in an attempt to calm herself down but it was to no avail, the trauma and guilt were still too fresh in her mind. “Did you know he killed every last person on that ship? And then sank the ship? All because of me. If I hadn’t been there they would’ve been on their way after giving up the cargo, he told me so. Made me watch it, too. The sinking, I mean, before he had me drugged and taken below deck.”

 

Before the captain could respond, their conversation, just like the day before, was interrupted by a crewmember. At first, Abigail was annoyed that they had been disturbed but in the end, she decided that it was for the better. It was far too easy to talk to him, to voice her thoughts openly and honestly. Abigail prayed that the winds would stay in their favour. The sooner they got to Charles Town the better! She spent a few more minutes looking out at the ocean, trying to sort out all these conflicting emotions inside her.

 

Unsuccessful in her attempts at banishing him from her thoughts, she stalked over to the bundle of canvas that had been left out for her. She sat down and pulled at the canvas rather violently, accidentally lengthening the gash that she was trying to stitch up. Getting angrier with herself by the minute, she punched the bundle of sails. It did nothing to alleviate her frustration. Instead it only served as a reminder of when she had punched the ship yesterday. It was an utterly hopeless situation, wasn’t it? Yes, she told herself. You must stop, but she knew it was pointless. It was too late already. She wouldn’t act on any of this, of course, but still her thoughts were plagued by countless what-if scenarios. The next one always more ridiculous than the previous one.

 

Abigail buried herself in her work. Silently cursing herself every time she accidentally stabbed herself with the needle because her thoughts had drifted away from her task. She was working so diligently that she finished mending the sail by late afternoon. She couldn’t help but despair slightly at being faced with ample leisure time.

 

Luckily, she was saved by the crew of all people. One of the sailors had started glancing her way as soon as she had finished work on the sail. Abigail couldn’t help the apprehension that spread through her body when the sailor finally made his way over to her. He looked terribly threatening. He was tall, taller than the captain even, and dirty. His long hair tumbling down his back in thick dreadlocks. She was so focused on his appearance that she paid no attention to what he was carrying in his hands.

 

“Ahem, excuse me Miss. I noticed you finished with the sails and eh, I was wondering if you would maybe mend my shirts? I can’t really do it myself.” Abigail looked at him incredulously for a few moments, but then she realized, he was indeed holding a bundle of clothes in one of his hands. Where the other hand should’ve been, there was only a stump. Abigail couldn’t tear her eyes away but she nodded, glad for the distraction he offered.

 

She swallowed once before accepting the clothes. “What happened?” she asked, eyes looking back at his stump. She knew she really shouldn’t stare, but she had never seen such a grievous injury this close. The pirate looked down at his arm and then held it up.

 

“Oh, this? It was a long time ago. When I was still a child, before I became a slave. I was hungry, stole some food. Got caught, and well, you know what they do with thieves.”

 

Abigail finally tore her eyes away and looked directly in his face. Up close, he didn’t look all that intimidating anymore.

 

“I’m sorry for what happened, and for staring. I shouldn’t have.”

 

The pirate chuckled, “Ah, don’t be Miss. I’ve been like this for a long time. I hardly ever notice.”

 

Abigail stared down at the clothes in her lap long after the crew member had left her. The pirate had accomplished what Abigail herself couldn’t: he had taken her mind of Captain Vane. What had he meant when he had said “before I was a slave”?

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Abigail and soon enough she found herself back in the hammock, trying to fall asleep. The cat was nestled against her feet, softly snoring. Abigail desperately wished for sleep but it proved elusive. Her mind was restless. So many thoughts assaulting her simultaneously.

 

Annoyed, she abruptly sat up, disturbing the cat in the process. The angry meow only a noise that Abigail registered in passing. She made her way on deck, closing the door behind her with much force than usual. She was surprised that the deck was almost entirely deserted and the air was much colder than she had anticipated. The hour must be later than she had thought. Angrily, she stomped across the deck to the aft of the ship. If only her friends could see her now. She had changed so much already. The old Abigail had always been so in control of herself, so in control of keeping herself hidden from the outside world. She chuckled, quietly and mirthlessly, when she realized she was standing in the exact same spot they had had their last conservation. For the third time in the past few days, she slammed her first down in frustration.

 

“My ship, Miss Ashe. Please?”

  
  
Of course, she thought. Of bloody course, he had to be right here. Too annoyed to realize the choice words she had used, even if only in thought. She groaned in frustration and turned her back towards the railing, slowly sliding down to the floor. Mirroring his posture. That’s why she hadn’t seen him, she noticed. He was sitting on the deck, mostly hidden in shadows. He brought a bottle to his mouth and took a deep drink from it, before speaking again.

 

“Nightmares, again?”

 

Abigail shook her head, but didn’t elaborate further.

 

“What then,” he asked, while holding out the bottle towards her. Abigail knew she shouldn’t have accepted the bottle, shouldn’t drink from it. But she didn’t care. There was just too much that she didn’t want deal with so instead, she took a deep drink as well. She could see his eyes widen. He hadn’t expected this.

 

The rum, she assumed, burnt her throat but she welcomed the feeling. She handed the bottle back to him before answering his question.

 

“This! You! Me! Everything!” By the time she was done speaking, she was almost screaming and it felt good. She reached out for the bottle again. Surprisingly, he handed it to her and she took another drink from it. The liquid in her belly slowly enveloping her in its warmth. It really was damn cool on deck this night.

 

They sat in companionable silence, passing the bottle back and forth. She had stopped taking huge gulps but she could still feel the rum affecting her. Suddenly, his voice broke the silence.

 

“What did One-Hand want from you?”

 

Abigail turned to him and look at him for a while. “One-Hand? You people really need to come up with better nicknames.” Abigail was aware that she was slurring her words slightly but even more so of the daring way she was addressing him again. How did that always happen? It was like she couldn’t stop herself from doing it but just like before, she was rewarded with his laughter.

 

“He asked for my help to fix his shirts. I would imagine it’s impossible to do if you only have one hand.”

 

He nodded and took another swig from the bottle. “I suppose so.”

 

They descended into silence again. Abigail couldn’t help but steal glances at him every once in a while. The moon had moved across the sky and was illuminating them, basking everything in its soft light. He really was sinfully handsome. The way his long hair framed his sharp features. The way his shirt revealed the muscles below. Inadvertently, Abigail’s eyes were drawn to a mark on his left shoulder. She had seen it before, on the other crew members. It looked like it had been branded into his skin. The words of One-Hand came back to her: “before I was a slave.” Abigail gasped quietly but of course, he heard her and saw exactly what she was looking at.

 

Before he could say anything, Abigail spoke, gesturing at his shoulder. “The others have it, too.” She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, but she was determined to finish. “One-Hand said he was a slave. Were… you?”

 

She expected anger or violence or him simply leaving her sitting alone on deck. But she never expected him to tell her his story. By the end, Abigail’s eyes were brimming with tears. He had faced so many hardships, so many obstacles. A lesser man would have been broken by this life. There were no words to convey what she wanted to tell him so instead she again placed her hand on his forearm, not without silently asking for permission, and squeezed it.

 

They sat in silence until the sun began peaking over the horizon. Only then did he speak again, “We will arrive in Charles Town today.” It was right then that Abigail’s heart broke. She didn’t even notice him leaving.

 

Once they had arrived at Charles Town everything moved much more quickly than Abigail anticipated. The _Ranger_ had just dropped her anchor in the bay, her sails still unfurled, when a longboat was launched from the shore and started heading in their direction. She didn’t stray from her position at the gunwale during the longboat’s approach and before long she was joined by _him_. This would be it. She would never see him again. She should be happy to leave this ordeal behind her. She should be happy to be reunited with her father. Finally, after so many years. She should be happy to be rescued from these criminals. _She should be happy_ , but in truth, she didn’t want to leave. All because of him! What a silly girl she turned out to be. But she would go, go back to the life that seemed so far away now. Not because she wanted to, but because it was the one thing she could do for him. This way she could at least pretend that he’d sail back to Nassau and live out his life enjoying the spoils of his war. She could _pretend_ though she knew what would await him back there.

 

She was startled out of her reverie by a shout from the approaching longboat, “Captain Vane!” The man next to her answered with a curt nod.

 

“We have received your letter. We accept your terms. We are prepared to pay the amount you requested in return for Abigail Ashe. The exchange shall take place tonight at seven o’clock, over there on that island. Lord Ashe himself will conduct the exchange.”

 

The man indicated to a small island in the bay, about half a mile or so away. As soon as he finished speaking, the longboat turned around and went back the way it came.

 

Abigail almost sighed in relief but managed to stop herself. She would have a few, precious hours before she had to say her good-byes. Abigail berated herself silently. Why did her heart have to betray her such? She was being extremely foolish. Her friends had confided in each other about the latest desirable man they had laid eyes upon but Abigail had never experienced it, that peculiar feeling in your stomach. Until now. She could see him out of the corner of her eyes, his long hair moving in the breeze. The opening of his shirt revealing what lay below. Abigail’s heart skipped a beat. Embarrassed by her actions she closed her eyes. No Abigail, she scolded herself, that is enough. This will never be and you shall not think of it! She kept her eyes closed for a few more seconds and then finally moved away.

 

The few hours until the appointed meeting time passed in a flurry of activity. The ship that this morning had felt seemingly like home, now in the process of forgetting about Abigail. Her hammock stowed away again. The needles and yarn she had used, returned to their original owner. One by one the marks she had left, were erased. It was almost as if she had never been there at all. Her needlework the only thing that would remain on the ship. The captain had seemingly already forgotten about her already. Not once did she have an opportunity to talk to him.

 

The crew had lowered one of the longboats down to the water line and the crewmen that would accompany them to the island were waiting for the captain and Abigail to join them. Abigail swallowed before she took the hand he offered her to help her over the side of the ship. This was best, she reminded herself, but then she made the mistake of looking at him. For one long moment, their eyes locked and neither of them moved.

 

“I…,” Abigail began, courage leaving her immediately when she started speaking. Defeated, she closed her eyes. Why did she have to ruin it and say something?

 

“I know,” he answered, his voice low.

 

Her eyes snapped open, but the moment was over. They both knew this was what needed to be done. Abigail climbed over the side with his assistance and made her way down the ladder. He soon joined them in the boat and they set off towards their destination. When they drew closer, she could see the other party on the beach waiting for them. Four militia men, wearing the king’s red and two attired in finer clothes. They were still too far away but one of them surely would be her father. Soon they would be reunited and she would do her best to forget this, forget _him_.

 

The time it took them to reach the island seemed to stretch into infinity. One stroke of the oars following the next one and again and again and so on. After what seemed like eons to Abigail, they finally landed. The men quickly jumped out of the boat and pulled it on the beach. After it was pulled sufficiently high onto the beach to guarantee dry feet, Abigail scrambled out of the boat and quickly came to stand beside the captain. She could now easily make out the figures at the other end of the island’s beach. Her father had indeed come to collect her. The captain started walking toward the other group suddenly and Abigail and the men hurried to keep up with him.

 

The other party didn’t move at all. They seemed content to wait for them. She could make out one of the men not clad in red. He wasn’t her father. She suspected this might be Colonel Rhett. He was after all in charge of protecting Charles Town and its governor. This must mean the other person was her father but he had turned his head at such an angle it was hard to make out his features. From what Abigail remembered the height and figure seemed accurate, but how she longed to see his face.

 

A few steps later, the other man still hadn’t turned around and Abigail couldn’t ignore the feeling in her stomach anymore. Her steps slowed and finally she came to a stop. As soon as she did, the captain turned around and focused his gaze on her. She hoped he would pick up on her uneasiness and it seemed that he did for the next thing he did was to take a step towards her and speak in a low voice, “What is it, Miss Ashe?” Abigail looked from him to the party waiting for them. Maybe they had been alarmed by their stop, but the other man finally turned around and all colour left Abigail’s face. The sinking feeling in her stomach almost enough to bring her to her knees. That man wasn’t her father. This entire meeting was based on deception. Abigail merely a pawn in her father’s war on the pirates. She looked back at the captain. She had a decision to make, right here, right now. Go back to her father who played with her life so carelessly or go with him into the unknown.

 

“That man is not my father. This is a trap.”

 

As soon as she had finished speaking, she could hear the click of the pirates’ pistols but Captain Vane hadn’t moved a muscle, yet. Instead he was looking at her intently.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

She looked back to the other party. Yes, she was sure. Even though she hadn’t seen him in so long, she would remember him. The man over there was not her father. The face was all wrong. The nose so different.

 

She nodded and feeling that it wasn’t enough she spoke, “Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

 

As soon as she had confirmed her suspicions, the captain started walking back to the longboat, dragging her along with him for the first several steps before she could find her bearing. Suddenly they heard shouting behind them and a quick turn of their heads confirmed that the militia men were running towards them. Trying to catch up before they made it back to the safety of the boat.

 

The captain uttered a quick ‘Fuck.’ before breaking out into a run. Abigail was desperately trying to keep up, glad that she was wearing the practical clothes he had given her and not her usual stays and dress. Their mad dash had almost gotten them to the boat when suddenly another group of soldiers stepped out from among the treeline to their left. The pirates were now severely outmanned and Abigail could see the soldiers take aim.

 

The group pushed the boat off and hopped in as quickly as possible. The oars were taken up immediately and they beat a hasty retreat. But they were rowing against the tide and they were still in range of the soldier’s muskets despite the men’s best efforts. The men on the beach still hadn’t fired at them, waiting for a signal from their commanding officer maybe. It didn’t take much longer for the man who Abigail presumed was Colonel Rhett, to reach his men and what she heard shouted over the waves made her sick to her stomach.

 

“Take them all out, including the girl. If they have nothing to bargain with, they’ll leave. Governor’s orders!”

 

The noises of the muskets firing had just about died down, when Abigail was flung backwards and the most peculiar sensation spread through her left shoulder. She had been propelled into Captain Vane but she didn’t even take notice. Her gaze was trained on the red stain on her shirt that was growing by the second. She just had enough time to utter a quiet ‘Oh, dear.’ before the crippling pain started.

 

The journey back to the ship passed in a haze for Abigail. She was dimly aware of somebody applying pressure to her shoulder. Then suddenly the boat was hoisted up onto the ship and she heard the distant calls for the ship’s doctor.

 

She came to once more when somebody started feeding her rum. For more than a few panicked seconds, she thought herself back in the possession of Captain Low and she struggled against the men that were holding her down on the table.

 

“Abby, stop it. We’re trying to help you. Damn it.”

 

That voice. That voice meant safety. And then Abigail remembered, Low was dead and Captain Vane was here. Abigail sank back on the table.

 

Helped along by the rum, she soon succumbed to unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

The first sensation Abigail registered was the gentle rocking of her bed. Though opening her eyes proved more difficult than she expected. Her eyes lids felt as if something heavy was weighing them down so she left them closed for a while longer. Come to think of it, her entire body felt heavy. Her limbs were aching, most of all her left shoulder. Thinking, too, took a lot of effort, she realized. It was like when Low had her drugged. Finishing a line of thought was a difficult as navigating a foggy and cloudy sea. She slowly drifted back into unconsciousness.

 

Abigail didn’t know how much time had passed since the last time she had woken up but her thoughts felt a little bit more ordered this time around. What had happened to her? She tried to concentrate, tried to throw off the sluggishness. She remembered that they had disembarked the ship to meet her father. It had been the Captain, her and several of the crew in one of the long boats. Her father and his men had already arrived on the little island he had specified as a meeting point.

 

No, wait. That was wrong, wasn’t it? It was somebody dressed like her father but she had realized that it wasn’t him as soon as she got a good look at him, hadn’t she? Yes, that was right. It slowly dawned on her what that meant. Her father had betrayed her, had used her to try and capture the pirates. He had, once and for all, shown his true colours. His obsession with the eradication of the pirate threat had outweighed his commitment to her. He had blatantly disregarded her safety. Anger began bubbling in her. However, she was too tired to do anything about it.

 

But what had happened after? She focused all her efforts on remembering. She had realized the man wasn’t her father and she… Yes, she had turned to the Captain. In a split second she had made her decision. It was fuel by anger and hurt and disappointment. And she had decided against her father. Against her father and for the pirates. Once again, she had found herself on _his_ side in a conflict that was much bigger than her. She had stopped and informed him of the trap. As soon as they had stopped the other man had realized that his prey had discovered their trap. Soldiers had run out from among the undergrowth and they had legged it back to the longboat. They had made it safely into the boat and had been rowing back, when they had taken aim and fired their muskets at them. And she had been hit. She remembered now. She had suddenly flown backwards, smashing into him. At first there was no pain, only blood running down the front of her shirt but then her world exploded in a world of pain. Everything had gone black and try as she might, she couldn’t remember anything more.

 

As if fuelled by her memories the pain in her shoulder intensified and Abigail led out a small moan. It was answered by the sounds of somebody moving toward her. Gentle steps that made almost no sound. It was clear that this was neither the Captain nor any of the crew. Soon the gentle hands were carefully mopping her brow with a cool cloth. Abigail sighed with relief. Suddenly the gentle person spoke, “Abigail. Can you hear me? Are you awake?” It was a woman’s voice. She had heard it before though she couldn’t place it right now. Abigail tried opening her eyes again and found it much easier this time. She looked directly into the face of the woman who had spoken. She still couldn’t place her, but the woman smiled kindly at her and continued wiping her brow.

 

“I’m so glad you’re awake. My name is Miranda. I was once known to you as Lady Hamilton. Do you remember?”

 

Abigail’s eyes widened in panic. What was she doing here? If she was here, that meant Captain Flint would be nearby. Had they captured Captain Vane’s ship? She started struggling to reach a sitting position but she was so very weak.

 

“Please calm yourself. You’ve had an awful fever.”

 

Abigail tried to speak but failed. Her throat was dry and wouldn’t make any sound. Miranda seemed to sense her predicament. She reached for a cup and poured some water into it. Then she wound her arm around Abigail’s shoulders, supporting her head in an upright position, and fed her some water. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. That one cup barely sated her thirst, but it lubricated her throat enough to enable her to speak.

 

“Where is Captain Vane?”

 

Miranda seemed surprised by her question but Abigail needed to know she was still safe. Somehow through weird twists of fate, over the past weeks the Captain had become something akin to her safe harbour in this violent world. As long as he was around she would be safe. Miranda looked at her quizzically before speaking.

 

“I suspect he is on deck. Would you like me to get him?”

 

Abigail feebly nodded her confirmation. Speaking had exhausted her and she wanted to conserve her strength. Miranda gave her a long look before leaving the cabin. Abigail had a hard time reading her. Whether it was due to her addled mind or due to Lady Hamilton’s ability to school her features into an impenetrable mask, Abigail couldn’t decide. Abigail closed her eyes again. She might as well gather some strength before talking to him. Clearly much had happened since their encounter with her father’s men. Why else would Lady Hamilton be here?

 

It wasn’t long before the door opened and he stepped into the cabin. The familiar sounds of his gait brought a small smile to her face. She would recognize it anywhere. She was sure of it. She slowly opened her eyes to find him crouching next to the bed in the exact spot Lady Hamilton had occupied before. When her eyes found his, she could clearly see the concern in them. Lady Hamilton had come to a stop just inside the door to the cabin but he wouldn’t have it.

 

“Leave us.”

 

Neither of them spoke or moved until the door closed behind her. Abigail was the first to raise her voice. It was nothing more than a breathless “Hello.”, but it was enough to rouse him and suddenly she found herself crushed against him, his strong arms encircling her body, mindful of her injured shoulder. It was then that she became aware that she wasn’t wearing any clothes at all. Lady Hamilton must have removed them while Abigail was fighting the fever. Abigail hardly dared to breathe for fear of him letting go of her. She had fantasized about this in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, but would have never dared act on it. Feeling his hands on her bare skin was indescribable.

 

Everything had changed that day on the island. She would never return to her father’s side. His betrayal had deepened the chasm between them to an unfathomable depth, but she would face that new reality later. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the embrace. Her head was tucked into his neck and his scent filled her nostrils: a mixture of rum, the sun and the sea. She longed to raise her arms but was too weak to do it. They stayed in this position until the silence was disturbed by the toiling of the ship’s bell. Gently he laid her back down on the bed. His bed, she realized. It seemed the captain’s cabin had been transformed into an infirmary, and Lady Hamilton had stayed in the hammock that Abigail had previously occupied.

 

Once again Abigail’s eyes drifted shut. But when she heard him drag a chair near the bed, she opened them again. He looked at her for a few moments, before he spoke. “You almost died.” The emotion in his voice surprised her. In vain, she tried to sit up again, but her body wouldn’t cooperate, so she spoke instead, “What happened? I remember getting shot but after that? Nothing.” Her voice was weak and quiet, but he had heard her. He finally sat down in the chair and took her right hand. He placed it between his and caressed it softly. Now, that he was here and she knew that he was alright, she let herself relax. His presence in the room making her feel safe and at peace.

 

Soon his gravelly voice filled the room, “It has been almost a week since you were shot. Your wound itself wasn’t dangerous and we tended to it quickly, but you developed a serious fever during the night. The following morning Captain Flint and Lady Hamilton arrived in their fucking Spanish warship. He had planned to take you, Abby. A last attempt, to see his plan of reconciliation come to fruition. He was angry when he learnt that he was too late but grew even angrier when he saw what your bastard father did to you.”

 

Abigail could hear the anger in his voice, too. He hadn’t raised his voice but the tension in it was a clear indication. In the time she had spent in his presence, he had shouted several times. Mostly at his crew, but after he was done the matter was dealt with, the momentary anger dropped. However, when he got quiet and spoke carefully, that was when his rage stayed with him. Slowly fuelling a fire inside of him that could only be doused when the source of the rage had been disposed of. She knew that this most likely meant death for her father, but she found she wasn’t saddened by the thought. Rather the opposite was true.

 

Abigail tried to speak but could only cough. She was still parched. Like Lady Hamilton earlier, the Captain gently propped her up and slowly fed her a cup of water. When he made to put her down again, she shook her head. “More, please. I’m still so thirsty.” Obliging her request, he fed her another cup of water, before laying her back down. Abigail smiled up at him, thankful for his help. The gentleness in his eyes no longer a surprise to her. She had first seen a hint of it back in the cell, after what had happened with Eleanor. But now she knew better. He usually kept it inside, hidden away, but every so often it found its way to the surface. You wouldn’t usually observe it. His demeanour didn’t change, his voice didn’t change but you could see it in his eyes if you knew what to look for. Before sitting back down, he tenderly brushed the few strands of hair that had dared to rest on her face to the side. Abigail couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Involuntarily, her eyes slipped closed and she drifted off to sleep again.

 

Abigail woke once again by the time night had fallen. When she opened her eyes, she could see that the cabin was based in soft glowing light stemming from a couple of lighted lanterns. He was still there but had moved over to the table, intently focused on the documents before him. Lady Hamilton had also returned to the cabin. She was sitting near the other lantern, reading a book. Abigail cleared her throat, alerting the other occupants of the cabin to her wakefulness. Both looked at her when she disturbed the silence but it was Lady Hamilton who put her book down and came over to her. The Lady smiled at her kindly, almost motherly, and addressed her in a soft voice, “Would you be agreeable to having a bit to eat? Nothing too heavy, just a bit of broth. It will help you regain your strength.” Abigail nodded. She was ravenous.

 

Lady Hamilton turned to the Captain, presumably to ask him to fetch some food from the galley, but he had already risen. He gave them a curt nod before walking out of the cabin. Lady Hamilton summarily moved the chair she had been sitting in next to Abigail’s bed and sat down. It wasn’t long before she addressed Abigail, “Are you comfortable enough, Abigail? Captain Vane wouldn’t let us move you aboard the _Revenge_ , but I’m sure you’d find it much more agreeable.” Abigail responded emphatically. She had already decided she wouldn’t ever leave the Captain’s side unless he made her leave. He was the only one she trusted to keep her afloat in these tempestuous times. “Thank you, but I will stay right here. Though you have my eternal gratitude for helping me this past week!” Lady Hamilton smiled at Abigail, and Abigail once again wondered how the Lady had found herself among the pirates of Nassau. What could possibly have happened in her life that had forced her to resort to keep such crass company? Had a similar fate to hers befallen the older woman?

 

Though before Abigail could make her questions be heard, Captain Vane re-entered the cabin, a steaming bowl of broth in his hand. It was nothing but a simple broth, normally used as the base for a stew or the like, but the smell that wafted through the cabin smelled like heaven to Abigail. She smiled tenderly at him, trying her hardest to show her gratitude to him. He answered her silent communication with a small nod before conveying the bowl into Lady Hamilton’s hands. Wordlessly, he turned around and left the women in the cabin. Before he could close the door fully though, The Queen slipped in and made straight for Abigail’s bed. The cat settled immediately at Abigail’s feet as she had done many nights on their way to Charles Town. Lady Hamilton raised an eye at Abigail questioningly but Abigail just shook her head. She liked having the cat around for company.

 

Lady Hamilton waited a few minutes for the broth to cool before she steadily fed the broth to Abigail. It was a salty, slightly fatty concoction. Simple, but tasty and hearty. Both women kept quiet during the meal. Only once they were done, did Lady Hamilton ask her if she’d like more water before getting more rest. The salt in the broth had caused Abigail’s thirst to return with a vengeance and she ended up devouring three cups of water before it was sated. As soon as she had finished the last of the water, Abigail slipped back into sleep.

 

Abigail slept away the night peacefully. No dreams, no nightmares invaded her rest and she didn’t wake until the sun had fully risen the next morning. Lady Hamilton was back in a chair reading. This time sitting by the open window, letting the fresh sea air and sunlight inside. She looked peaceful. A small smile gracing her features as she steadily turned the pages of the book. Lady Hamilton had not yet realized that Abigail was awake so Abigail decided to let her enjoy her book for a few more moments. She closed her eyes again and mulled over what had happened yesterday between her and the Captain.

 

The more she had gotten to know him on their journey the more she had found herself drawn to him. He and his crew had turned from monsters into men, each with their own story, their own tragedies, their own hope and dreams. They had laughed together like when she had met the cat on her first day on the ship and the cat had officially adopted her as her new favourite human. But they had shared sorrow as well. That night on deck when she couldn’t sleep and he had told her how he and the crew came to bear the marks on their bodies, would stay with her forever.

 

Hearing so much about his life had much furthered her understanding of him and her sympathy and respect for him had grown. He had grown equally attached to her. That much was clear when they said farewell before leaving the ship. Much had been left unspoken. It had been better that way. If her father had not tried to trick the captain, they would never have seen each other again and he’d already be more than half way back to Nassau, a rich man with a future full of opportunities.

 

But fate had decided otherwise, and now her future was fully of uncertainty. She was still fully convinced that staying with him would be a wise course of action, but in what capacity? Well, that was still most unclear. A small part, a _childish_ part dreamt of her fighting by his side on the pirate ship, a pirate king and queen feared in all the Caribbean. It was a fantasy she had indulged in during the darkest hours of the night when the ship around her had been silent, but a fantasy it was and a fantasy it would stay, or would it? He had surprised her yesterday. The embrace! And he had called her Abby, twice. It had been her childhood nickname, but she had never told him about that. The emotion in his voice when he talked about her almost succumbing to death. She had wanted nothing more than to take that sorrow away. Oh, dear Lord, she thought, she was starting to sound like one of those naïve girls in those romantic stories her friends had been so fond of. A young, innocent girl falling for the forbidden, dark and mysterious stranger and rescuing him from the darkness. This wouldn’t do, she decided. Once she was better, she would talk to him and settle the matter once and for all. Then she would be free to move forward into this new life.

 

Abigail kept her eyes closed but tentatively tried moving her arms and legs. To her surprise, her limbs actually cooperated and she stretched slightly before opening her eyes to the morning sunlight again. Lady Hamilton had been alerted by her movements and had lain aside the book that had occupied her. She greeted Abigail with a small smile. “Good morning, Abigail. How are you feeling today, my dear?” Abigail couldn’t help but answer her jovially. “Good morning. I’m already feeling much better. Thank you.” There was just something about Lady Hamilton that she liked. The other woman was still enigmatic and there were things she was hiding. Abigail was sure of this, yet still she found Lady Hamilton quite an agreeable companion.

 

Lady Hamilton had abandoned her chair by the window and had begun puttering around the cabin, gathering all the things needed for Abigail’s morning toilet. Lady Hamilton turned towards Abigail and began speaking, “You seem much improved. I was thinking of trying to sit you up and clean you a bit. Would you be agreeable to try?” Abigail nodded emphatically. She could feel and smell the sweat on her body and in the bed. Her fever must have been truly awful. Lady Hamilton helped her sit up on the edge of the bed.

 

At first, Abigail was a bit dizzy but luckily it faded quickly. She let the sheet that she was holding up with her right hand to cover her torso fall. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the wound on her left shoulder. It had been first sewn shut but Lady Hamilton informed her that the doctor had undone a couple of the stitches to let puss drain out which was also the reason as to why the wound was not covered in bandages. The area was swollen and an angry red colour, but no more puss was flowing. Luckily, in the end, her body had been strong enough to fight the infection. It would leave a massive scar, but she would much rather live with that than be, well, dead.

 

Lady Hamilton quickly got to work and helped Abigail clean herself. They finished quickly with the upper half of her body and Abigail suggested that maybe they could even do the rest if she were to stand up and hold on to the chair for support. To both women’s surprise, what Abigail suggested did work. Abigail was glad to finally feel clean again, but standing had been exhausting so she sank into the chair with which she had been supporting herself. While Abigail rested Lady Hamilton wasn’t idle. She quickly stripped the bed of its sheets and remade it with clean ones she had someone bring over from the _Revenge_ on the day before.

 

The longer Abigail sat in the chair the more she became aware of her state of undress. It had been easy enough to forget about in the bed, but feeling her naked bottom sitting on the captain’s chair made her uncomfortable. No not uncomfortable. It made her feel _brazen_. Her friends had talked about such things, in whispers and behind hands with much giggling. Abigail had never indulged in such things. There was no need for her to look for a husband in England. She had been destined for the Americas since her childhood. She had occupied her time with more important things.

 

“Lady Hamilton…”, Abigail began, but was immediately interrupted by the other women, “Please call me Miranda, my dear. We have known each other for so long, even if we have been separated for the majority of it.” Abigail answered with a small nod and continued talking, “Miranda, it is then. Would you…? Are there any clothes I could wear?”

 

Miranda walked over to a storage chest in one of the corners of the room and returned with a bundle of clothes. “I laundered your clothes when you were unconscious. I’m afraid the shirt you were wearing was destroyed but the rest of your clothes are all right. I would gladly lend you some of my own, but we left so quickly that I had no time to bring any.” She laid out Abigail’s clothes one by on the bed. She recognized all but one, a greenish shirt far too large for her. Miranda saw her looking at it and resumed speaking, “Captain Vane said to use his spare shirt, after I told him about your predicament. I know, my dear, we were just recently reunited but I feel I must speak plainly to you. He seems to hold you in astonishingly high regard. Why is that?”

 

Abigail sighed quietly and pondered how to answer the other woman. Ultimately, she decided that the truth would probably be best. It wouldn’t do to have Miranda come to any false conclusions. Not when her allegiance with Flint was still a source of mystery and a potential source of trouble. “I don’t know exactly, to tell you the truth. On the way here, we shared many conversations. We got to know each other, I suppose.” Abigail’s voiced trailed off. She rubbed her face in frustration before she continued speaking, “You must think me silly. What could a feared Pirate Captain and a foolish girl have to talk about? Yet, I speak the truth.”

 

Miranda didn’t reply. Instead she moved over and helped Abigail with the clothes. First, Abigail slipped the shirt over hear head. _His_ shirt her brain reminded and her heart asserted her with a skip. It was reasonably clean and smelled of him. Abigail inhaled deeply, ignoring the sting in her shoulder the motion caused, and hoped to God that Miranda didn’t notice. With Miranda’s assistance she stood up again. Her legs were much weaker now and Abigail was looking forward to laying down again. Abigail raised her leg one after the other while Miranda was helping her get into the skirt. Miranda tucked the shirt into the skirt and securely fastened it around Abigail’s waist. She then helped Abigail move back to the bed. The small acts of cleaning and getting dressed had thoroughly exhausted her, and she gladly sank back into the comfort of the bed.

 

It was only after she had settled that Miranda spoke, “Vane has never laid a hand on you?” Abigail shook her head. She desperately yearned for sleep but it appeared that Miranda wasn’t finished with her questions, yet.

 

“What about Low? Did he or his crew force himself on you? I know this must be troubling to talk about, but I only fear for your safety and wellbeing.” The name Low still made Abigail shiver in fear even though she knew he had been dispatched by the Captain weeks ago. Once again, she meekly shook her head, and answered Miranda quietly, “No, he kept me locked up and drugged most of the time. Only entered my cell to give me water and more opium to keep me quiet.” Abigail blushed heavily at her next admission but continued speaking nonetheless, “From what I know of such matters, which is little, nothing happened.” Miranda nodded at her and as if she were giving Abigail permission to sleep, Abigail’s eyes closed. While she was drifting off to sleep she could feel Miranda gently stroking the side of her face, but in Abigail’s imagination she could feel his rough fingers instead. With a deep sigh she burrowed deeper into the covers and succumbed to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Abigail slept most of the day away, her body still recovering from the ordeals of the past week. She only truly awoke when the ship’s bell signalled for the evening meal. She sleepily rubbed her eyes before opening them. Her limbs felt heavy and she probably would’ve fallen back asleep if not for her growling stomach. She was positively ravenous.

 

So, instead of sinking back into the mattresses and dreaming of futures that seemed outright impossible, she stretched her limbs and began the arduous process of sitting up. She was so focused on this task that she let out an audible gasp when suddenly strong, steady hands came to her assistance. Soon he had her sitting on the edge of the bed. Grateful, she looked up at him but had to close her eyes immediately. The world was spinning before her eyes and she tightened her grip on him.

 

“People fainting in fright when they see me, is expected. But after two weeks on this ship it’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

 

Abigail had to chuckle despite her dizziness. It took a few moments for the dizziness to dissipate. Abigail tentatively opened her eyes and when she found the room stationary, she looked back up at him, a small, tired smile on her face.

 

“Thank you. It appears I’m not as well as I thought I was.”

 

“What were you trying to do in the first place?” he said, looking at her quizzically.

 

She quietly yawned before answering him. “I don’t really know. I mean, I would like nothing more than to sleep right now, but I’m also incredibly hungry. It would probably be beneficial for my recovery to not ignore that.”

 

He nodded and for a brief moment, it looked like he wanted to say more but instead he started turning towards the door. Abigail became aware that she was still holding on to him. She let go but not before lightly squeezing his arms again.

 

Now that he had left, Abigail looked around the dimly lit cabin, only to realize that Miranda was nowhere to be seen. He returned much faster than she had anticipated. He had been gone less than a minute and disappointingly his hands were empty. Her disappointment must have been written clearly on her face, because he chuckled as soon as he looked at her.

 

“Sent somebody to fetch some food. I thought it best not to leave you alone. Who knows what you would get up to?”

 

Abigail laughed quietly. Relieved, that it was still so easy to talk to him. She briefly contemplated trying to get up by herself and making her way to the chair, but in the end, reason won out. She really didn’t want a repeat of the episode of dizziness.

 

“Help me, please. To the chair, I mean. I’d rather not eat in bed.”

 

She sounded so weak, so vulnerable, Abigail noticed. And if she were honest, she felt it, too. Not just because of the wound and the resulting illness. But because of what her father had done to her. The betrayal she had suffered at his hands. It was too much. The realization that she had been nothing more than another pawn to use in his war against the pirates, had turned her whole world upside down. He had shown no regard for her well-being, for her life. He had ordered her executed! What kind of father was capable of doing such a thing?

 

Involuntarily, Abigail shivered, powerless to stop the tears that began rolling down her face. Through her tears she could see the captain crouch down in front of her. He placed one hand on her chin before speaking, “What is it? Are you in pain?” Abigail meekly shook her head and cast her eyes downwards. She tried to speak but that only caused the tears to flow harder. How could her father do this to her? His own flesh and blood? Wasn’t a father supposed to protect his daughter? Thinking of the betrayal brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. But suddenly, she was pulled up and then there were strong arms encircling her body. With a sigh she rested her head against his chest. It was ironic really, how this man that she should be mortally afraid of, made her feel so safe. It took a while for Abigail’s tears to subside. Every time she thought of her father the tears started again. Abigail was incredibly thankful that he held her until there was a knock at the door.

 

The captain went to open the door after helping Abigail into the chair at the table. She was glad that he didn’t let the person who was at the door into the cabin. Instead he accepted the food and drink, and closed the door. Wordlessly, he placed the sustenance in front of Abigail. She reached out and slowly started nibbling on a piece of bread. Her appetite was all but gone, but she was still incredibly hungry so she diligently ate everything that he placed in front of her but avoided looking at him directly. To say she was embarrassed by her breakdown would be an understatement.

 

“Better now?”

 

Abigail nodded, looking down at her hands. As so often in the time since she had been captured, she rubbed her face, frustrated with herself. She didn’t know why, but she felt this need to explain herself to him. To make him understand.

 

“I..,” she began, her voice hoarse from her earlier crying. “I’m sorry. It’s… how could he do this? He was always disappointed that he had no sons, that I was a daughter, but that is no excuse for what he did. He used me as bait and then when his plan failed… He told them to _kill_ me!”

 

Abigail could feel blind anger rising in her. She was angry with Low for putting her in this whole situation in the first place, angry with herself for being too powerless to protect herself but the brunt of her anger was directed at her father. She finally looked up at him and saw her own anger mirrored in his eyes.

 

“I’m just so angry with him. I wish I could make him pay for what he did.”

 

As soon as she had spoken, she could see his demeanour change. That certain darkness taking hold of him. A darkness that should make her flee in terror, but instead she found herself drawn to it, like a moth to the flame. Their gazes stayed locked for what felt like eternity before he spoke.

 

“We… can arrange that.”

 

Abigail momentarily forgot to breathe. Was he really offering her a way to take revenge? Did she even truly want that? Or was her momentary anger just that? Momentary and in a few days, it would be but a distant memory? No, she thought, what her father had done was unforgiveable but could she really order her father’s execution?

 

“I... I don’t know if I can do it, if I can have his life ended.” She paused briefly to reach out and take his hand in her own. She gave it a light squeeze before continuing, “But, what did you have in mind?”

 

He leaned back in his chair, letting go of her hand but not before bringing it up to his face and placing a quick kiss on it. He was all pirate captain now.

 

“After Flint learnt what happened before he arrived here, we discussed our response to your father’s actions. Flint finally understood that his plan of reconciliation would never work, just like you predicted. Men like your father will never see us as anything but monsters, even though they were the ones who created us in the first place. We’ve been blockading Charles Town harbour ever since then. No vessel is going in or out. We’ve captured and burnt all that have tried it. They have no ship that can match Flint’s warship, even Rhett’s hunters don’t stand a chance. We can keep this up for as long as we want to and eventually the town will run out of supplies. Our scouts have already reported that the people of the town are starting to take to the streets and demand action from your father.”

 

And it was then that Abigail understood what he was offering her, “You mean to turn the town against him.”

 

He nodded and Abigail saw that that dangerous glint had returned to his eyes. She couldn’t stop the shiver than ran down her spine but she wasn’t afraid, because she could feel the same darkness inside herself.

 

“And you would let me decide how far to take this? I’ll never return to my father’s side, not after what he did but I meant what I said earlier, I don’t know if I’m ready to do what you are suggesting.”

 

Once again, his only reaction was a small nod. It was so tempting to just give in. Let him take care of this and hide on the ship. but it didn’t feel right. No, she needed to be there if (and when) her sentence got carried out. She studied his face for a few moments. Impassive, for the moment, still waiting for her definite answer but she wasn’t ready, yet.

 

“Why? Why are you doing this? And what is Captain Flint’s going to say?”

 

Mentioning Flint managed to rouse his temper. In a flash, he was out of his chair and pacing the length of the cabin.

 

“Fuck Flint, Abby! This is between you, me and your father! Don’t forget your father cheated me out of my money, too!”

 

Abigail wished nothing more than to be able to get up and walk over to him, but she knew that if she were to try her legs would just give out. Instead, she waited for him to calm down, to stop his pacing. After what felt like ages to Abigail, he finally ceased and came to stand in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.

 

“So, you are saying Flint won’t interfere with whatever you’re planning. But I still don’t understand why you are doing this?”

 

It took him so long to answer her that Abigail had convinced herself that she had pushed him too far, had damaged that inexplicable bond between them. But instead he crouched down in front of her, gripped her arms tightly and looked straight into her eyes.

 

“Because I know what it feels like, Abby. To be powerless to stop what is happening to you. The fear, the anger, the frustration and the doubt in yourself. But I also learned how _good_ revenge feels. How good it feels to finally make the bastards pay for what they did. To take back what is yours and in the process, to take everything _and_ more from them. And Abby, it feels so _good_!”

 

A strangled gasp left Abigail’s lips. She was so dangerously close to giving in, to let that darkness take hold of her. He was offering her the chance to seize power, to take her life in her own hands.

 

“And I promise, if you give your consent, you will have your revenge.”

 

His promise was enough to tip Abigail over the edge. Her whispered ‘Yes.’ breaking the silence that had settled in the cabin after he had stopped speaking. Feeling as though all her strength had left her, she slowly sank on her knees in front of him. His hands gripping her was the only thing keeping her upright. Exhausted she let her head sink down until it came to rest on his shoulder. With a quiet sigh she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the now familiar scents of rum, the sea and the sun invading her senses.

 

Abigail was almost asleep by the time he finally spoke again, “Can you stand?” A slight shake of her head was all she was capable of. Almost immediately she found herself hoisted up into his arms and carried over to the bed. Abigail was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

 

When Abigail finally woke up the next morning, she realized two things almost immediately. First of all, the entire cabin was flooded with sunlight causing her to surmise that she slept most of the day away. But secondly, she felt much better than she had the past few days though she couldn’t tell whether it was due to her body finally mending itself or due to the pact she had entered with the captain last night. Thinking of the previous night caused Abigail to shiver. Whatever it was that had happened between them, had almost been magical.

 

After a few more moments, Abigail cautiously sat up, apprehensive of the dizziness that had accompanied her during her recovery so far but nothing happened. She pulled on her shoes that had been left by her bed and slowly got to her feet expecting her legs to give in at any moment but it seemed her earlier assessment held true, some of her strength had indeed returned.

 

Cautiously she walked to the door of the cabin, took a couple of deep breaths and finally stepped out into the blinding sunlight. It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust. The light level in the cabin had been nowhere near as bright as it was out here on deck. Abigail let her eyes sweep the deck. It seemed just like on the journey here most of the crew was lounging about on deck. Ultimately though her eyes landed on the captain, Miranda and somebody who’s back was turned to Abigail but who she strongly suspected was Captain Flint.

 

The small group was standing slightly apart from the crew and seemed engaged in heated discussion. Abigail took a couple of deep breaths to steel herself before moving towards them. She knew that he wouldn’t, couldn’t harm her. Not with Captain Vane right here, but she couldn’t stop the apprehension from spreading through her body.

 

Her footfalls sounded oddly loud in her ears as she slowly but steadily made her way over to the group. Maybe it was because whenever she passed a gathering of crew members they would all fall silent one by one and nod at her before continuing their conversations or maybe it was just her nervousness at meeting the dreaded Captain Flint.

 

Abigail could her Miranda emphatically arguing with Flint as she was approaching, “Let the poor girl rest, James! She has been through enough already! She doesn’t need you to storm in there like a charging bull!”

 

Neither of them had taken notice of her, yet. They were too engrossed in whatever argument they were having. Captain Vane however was quite aware of her approach: Abigail had been feeling his eyes on her since she stepped out onto the deck. She couldn’t stop the small, almost coy smile that was forming on her face as she was thinking back to last night.

 

Once she came to stand next to him, he greeted her and thus alerted the other two to her arrival. Miranda immediately came up to her and gently took her hands, “Abigail, my dear. It’s so good to see you out and about!” Abigail’s smile widened and she inclined her head towards Miranda but she couldn’t take her eyes of Captain Flint.

 

“You,” Abigail said in utter disbelief, “You’re Captain Flint?” He simply nodded while Miranda and Captain Vane both looked at her in confusion. “I remember you. From the garden party. I…,” she stopped and collected herself for a few moments before continuing. “How?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this out! I found this chapter incredibly hard to write. Hopefully it'll get easier from here on out!

Instead of continuing their talk on deck, the small group had retired to the captain’s cabin. The crew had been able to scrounge up two more chairs from God knows where and now they were all seated around the table: Captain Vane and Abigail on one side, Flint and Miranda on the other.

 

Everybody’s eyes were directed at Abigail. They were clearly expecting her to elaborate on how she became acquainted with Captain Flint. It had just been a chance encounter long ago but one that had stayed with her. Abigail took a deep breath and then began her story.

 

“If you are expecting some elaborate story, this won’t be it. It’s just an act of kindness, still remembered,” she offered as an introduction and explanation of her story.

 

“My mother and I had just recently relocated to London to join my father there, hoping that the doctors there could help with my mother’s illness. My father was incessantly hosting and attending events. One such hosted event was the garden party, I was talking about. My mother wasn’t well. The travel had exhausted her. But because she couldn’t be there, it was determined that I shouldn’t either since she couldn’t keep an eye on me. I was upset that I wasn’t allowed to attend. I decided to sneak out and go anyways. Of course, I couldn’t let my father see me so I stayed in the dark gardens. It was a lot less fun than I had anticipated and the night air was cold, and I soon decided to go back to the house, but I got lost. It was dark. I wasn’t familiar with the grounds and I was still so young. I just sat down and started crying.”

 

Abigail paused and chuckled at her childish antics. She quickly sipped at the wine Captain Vane had poured while she had been talking before continuing.

 

“I had been crying for what felt like hours, convinced I would be lost forever, when two gentlemen chanced upon me.”

 

Finally, Abigail could discern a look of recognition on Captain Flint’s face.

 

“They comforted me and then one of them set out to find a servant to take me back inside.”

 

By now Abigail was looking directly into Flint’s eyes.

 

“You stayed with me. Told me about the stars, how they help us to find our way and that if I could see the stars I would never truly be lost. Soon the other man returned with a servant who returned me home. As I said, it was nothing extraordinary but I’ve always remembered.”

 

Abigail looked at the group of people gathered around the table. Everybody seemed reluctant to speak, each of them lost to their own thoughts. Captain Flint was staring off into the distance. His face entirely unreadable to Abigail. Miranda’s eyes were trained on Captain Flint, a sad smile on her face yet the affection she held for him was clearly visible in her eyes. And lastly, Captain Vane. He was looking right at her. His expression was hard to describe but what surprised Abigail was the softness in his gaze.

 

It was Abigail who broke the silence that had settled in the cabin first. She felt incredibly insignificant and so very young at this moment. Not only did the others have many more years of life experience in general, but two of three were quite possibly the most feared pirate captains in the world. And only because _he_ was there did she find the courage to address Captain Flint again.

 

“But, what I should like to know, Captain Flint, is: how that gentleman became you?”

 

That question finally managed to rouse both Miranda and Captain Flint. Miranda audibly gasped while Flint’s anger surfaced. He was out of his seat within seconds but so was everybody else. Flint slowly advanced on Abigail but was stopped by the words the man behind her uttered, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Captain Flint’s only reaction was raising an eyebrow. But he didn’t return to his seat. Instead Miranda had to physically drag him away from Abigail. As soon as they were out of earshot, Miranda started talking to Flint in whispers. Abigail could not make out what they were saying though it was obvious that they were having a heated argument.

 

Abigail’s attention was drawn away from the two when Captain Vane spoke, “I don’t know whether it was extremely foolish or brave to say that to Flint.” Abigail sat down and chuckled mirthlessly. “Neither, or maybe both?” He tilted head sideways as if urging her to elaborate and pushed her wine cup towards her. Abigail accepted it gladly even if only to have something hold on to. “Thank you.” She looked over to the couple briefly. Clearly, they were still arguing so she focused her attention back on the man before her. “I wouldn’t have dared to confront him so if you hadn’t been here.”

 

For a moment it looked as if he wanted to say something but he only lifted his wine up to his mouth and took a deep drink. Abigail sank back in her chair and closed her eyes for a few moments. This entire situation felt so surreal. If anybody had told her before she set out for the Americas that, instead of living quietly with her father, she would end up banding together with pirates, she would’ve surely declared them insane. She slowly opened her eyes. Only to find that Captain Vane was still watching her intently. Her mind flashed back to the night she first woke up from her sickness: the way his rough hands had felt on her naked back. She felt a very peculiar sensation spread through her and she couldn’t help but think that she would very much like to feel those hands touching her naked body again. She could feel herself blushing but before she could continue down that line of thought, they were interrupted by Captain Flint and Miranda returning to their chairs.

 

Surprisingly, it was Miranda who started speaking. “You wanted to know how we came to be here. A long time ago, Captain Flint, my husband Thomas and you father, Abigail, were working together to end piracy in the West Indies. Their plan was to grant everybody a full pardon but this radical idea was opposed by several factions within Whitehall, most notably by my father-in-law Lord Alfred Hamilton. He plotted against us and won. Thomas lost his life and we left London for Nassau.”

 

Abigail sat up straight and looked directly at Miranda and Captain Flint. “So, the attack on the _Maria Aleyne_ was revenge just like my father said.” Captain Flint nodded almost imperceptibly. “But, what I don’t understand is why my father was so upset about Lord Hamilton’s death? You said that Alfred Hamilton was working against you, so why was he coming to visit my father in Charles Town?”

 

The intense rage was immediately back in Captain Flint’s eyes, but this time it wasn’t directed at Abigail. Yet, she couldn’t help but shiver slightly when his eyes landed on her. “Alfred Hamilton was coming to see your father? Are you sure?”

 

Abigail nodded. “Yes, my father wrote of it in his letters. I begged him to let me accompany Lord Hamilton so I could join him, but he wouldn’t allow it.”

 

Abigail could only watch as Miranda leaned towards Captain Flint and started whispering in his ear. Once she was done, Captain Flint turned towards Captain Vane. “Once you have Peter Ashe in your possession, I would like a word with him!” Abigail could her the menace in his voice. The threat was clear as day. It seemed that she wasn’t the only person who had been gravely wronged by her father.

 

The next one to speak was Captain Vane who had been strangely silent so far. “You shall have your word with him. For now, I think, we should continue the blockade. I doubt they will last for much longer.”

 

Their meeting concluded for the day, everybody rose from their chairs and made their way over to the door, but before Abigail could exit Miranda requested to talk to her. “In private, if you please.”

 

Once the captains had left, silence settled in the cabin. Instead of speaking, Miranda looked at Abigail for a long time as if she were silently assessing her. Finally, Miranda led Abigail back to the chairs in front of the table. Miranda motioned for her to sit down. After Abigail was seated, Miranda gently took Abigail’s hands and finally spoke. “Are you certain you won’t reconsider joining us on the _Revenge_? It seems you are much improved and I’m very glad for it, but I would rest easier knowing you weren’t here by yourself. I had to leave you here last night because Captain Flint insisted to talk to me.”

 

Abigail shook her head. “Thank you. I do appreciate your offer but I will stay.” She could see a hint of disappointment in Miranda’s eyes but the other woman said nothing more.

 

Abigail accompanied her on deck and silently watched their departure. Once Abigail saw them safely arrive back at their ship she turned around and let her eyes sweep the ship. She found it was much like before: crew members strewn haphazardly across the deck, playing games and drinking; the captain seemed in deep discussion with his quartermaster.

 

Abigail couldn’t but smile softly to herself because of the almost tangible feeling of being free that had taken hold of her. Her life certainly had taken a turn for the dangerous and the uncertain, but that couldn’t dampen the happiness that she felt at being the one responsible for herself. It was something that she never really had longed for before, but now that she had it she knew she would never give it up.

 

Abigail ended up watching the small group of crewmembers closest to her. They were playing some sort of card game that Abigail had never seen. She kept watching them until one of them got up and made his way below deck, but in the end, she still was no closer to discerning the rules of the game. Her spying was discovered when one of the men suddenly look up from the deck of cards he was shuffling in his hands. The man looked at her with an amused expression before beckoning her towards the group. Abigail hesitated for the slightest moment, a hundred what-if scenarios running through her head. However, she surmised, logically speaking there wasn’t much they could do to her before the captain would notice. Having assured herself thusly, she quickly walked over to the group and sat down in the spot the other crewmember had vacated earlier. The men inclined their heads in greeting and she answered with a small smile that grew larger when she realized that one her gaming partners was One-Hand who promptly enquired about her wellbeing.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

Abigail smiled before answering, “Yes, much better. Thank you!” Gesturing to the cards in the other man’s hands she continued, “I’m afraid I have no idea how to play.”

 

“Ah, no worries. It might look complicated but I assure you it’s as easy to pick up as a willing woman in a whore house when you got coin.”

 

Abigail stared at him, mouth hanging open, for what must have been a full minute while the pirates around her descended into laughter. No one, _no one_ in her in entire life had ever said such a lewd thing to her. Audibly she closed her mouth and looked at the men around her. She could feel a slight blush spreading on her cheeks. This was so far removed from everything she had ever known and moments like these made her doubt if she could ever really adapt. Her life had been so much easier back in England. Yes, the freedom she had now was exhilarating but it was equally terrifying. What if she wasn’t strong enough? What if he decided that she wasn’t worth it? She’d be all alone. Before she could continue down that dark path of thought, she was startled out of her reverie by One-Hand.

 

“Apologies, Miss. Shouldn’t have said that.”

 

Abigail shook her head and looked at him, a wistful smile on her face. She would think about this later. And if she were honest, she really needed to talk to him about this. But not now. Now she would just sit on the deck of a pirate ship and play cards with the crew of said ship.

 

“No, yes. Maybe? I…,” she stopped. She cleared her throat before continuing, “Now, are you going to teach me how to play?”

 

The game the pirates were playing was indeed easy to pick up once fully explained. Winning was mostly based on chance so no great skill was required. The game and, surprisingly, the company proved excellent at distracting Abigail from her own thoughts.

 

It was here that the captain found her hours later. Tom, one of the crewmembers she was playing with, was in the middle of telling an elaborate joke and had all of them already wildly laughing. They were just about to start another round, when the captain interrupted them.

 

“Abigail. A word?”

 

She looked up at him. The expression on his face was hard to decipher. She hadn’t expected that she was the reason he had come over but she quickly got up and fell in step with him. He was leading her back to the captain’s cabin. Once inside, Abigail looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finally speak.

 

“Why do you insist on staying here?”

 

“Wh-What?”

 

“The Barlow woman, Lady Hamilton to you. Said that she offered you to come with her. You refused?”

 

“Oh,” she said, almost inaudibly. She leaned back against the door as if all strength had left her.  On the inside, Abigail was close to panicking. It was crystal clear to her by now why she wanted to stay but was she ready to bare all her thoughts before him? Slowly, her back still to the door, she sank down to the floor. Resting her forehead on her knees, she breathed in deeply. She was trying to pull herself together but failing. She could still feel his eyes on her; waiting for her explanation. She quietly sighed to herself before speaking.

 

“This situation, that I’m finding myself in, makes me feel so confused and conflicted. I constantly find myself switching between feeling elated and happy to anxious and desperately scared. I feel so very free but also so very lost. I don’t know if you understand how different this life is from everything that I’m used to. Most of the time, I do feel like the proverbial fish out of water.”

 

She stopped for a moment, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. In an attempt to comfort herself, she wrapped her arms tighter around her knees. She was so very scared of what she was about to say, but reminded herself that she had sworn to herself that she would sort out this weird companionship she felt between them once and for all.

 

“And, even though I have met both Lady Hamilton and Captain Flint before, they are still strangers to me. I don’t know if I can trust them. Lady Hamilton has been nothing but kind to me in the past few days but the two of them have their own agenda with my father and I don’t trust them enough to not use me if I were to join them.”

 

She paused, wiping away the few tears that had escaped. She looked up at him. The expression on his face took her breath away. She had never expected to see that much concern in his eyes. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to launch herself into his arms, but she knew that if she were to do that they wouldn’t get around to resolving whatever this thing between them was. So, instead she took a deep breath and continued talking.

 

“And regarding my father. You promised that you would help me. I can’t do this by myself. I’m not strong enough. But…,” she trailed off just for a few seconds, nervously wringing her hands in her lap. “But, that’s not all. I…,“ Abigail sighed. She was frustrated with herself. She needed to say this but it was just so difficult. She still felt this desperate need to be honest with him, to bare herself before him. Breathless once more, she tried swallowing the lump that had settled into her throat. All the while, he still hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word. The longer she waited, the more unsettled she felt. She swallowed one last time before speaking again. Her words nothing but a quiet whisper yet still perfectly audible in the silence of the cabin.

 

“When… When I am with you, I don’t feel scared. I don’t feel anxious. Instead, I feel strong. In control of my own future. It doesn’t make any sense. I should fear you. I should despise you after everything that has happened. But, I don’t.” She ceased speaking for a few seconds; using the time to draw in a few ragged breaths. “Instead, I find myself drawn to you. You have no idea how worried I was when I woke up and found Lady Hamilton in the cabin. I thought that somehow Flint had managed to dispose of you.”

 

There. She had said it. Maybe not in as eloquently as she would like to have phrased it, but it was done. Exhausted, she let her head sink back down to her knees. Had it really been only a bit more than a fortnight since she first had lain eyes on this man before her? This strange creature so capable of violence but also capable of caring…

 

Finally, she heard him move. She hardly dared to breathe. He came to a stop next to her and then suddenly she found herself in his arms. She couldn’t stop the heavy sigh that escaped her lips at the contact. Slowly, tentatively she wrapped her own arms around him; her head once again coming to rest on his shoulder. After a few moments’ peace, the floodgates opened. Her desperate sobs racking her body. She could feel his hand gently stroking her back.

 

“Shhh, Abby.”


End file.
